


The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir: Act 1: Skyrim

by Crazylittleloon



Series: The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Diary/Journal, Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 42,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazylittleloon/pseuds/Crazylittleloon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifteen-year-old Zahrassa had so far had a very chaotic life. Her biological parents vanished when she was five, her adoptive parents vanished when she was twelve, and now she travels with a trading caravan. All she wants is a normal life with a little bit of exploration and adventure, and to maybe find out what happened to her birth parents. Fate, however, has other plans.</p><p>Part one of a five-book series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Tirdas, 12th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

I've been given a completely blank book to use for what I please, sold to us by a Nord woman here in Whiterun who had no use for it. There's no way we could resell it, so it seems I got myself a very late birthday present...though I really don't know much about writing in a journal. I'm told it's like writing letters to myself about what the days have been like, how I'm feeling, stuff like that, so I guess I should write myself an introduction..? So here we go.

 

My name is Zahrassa Barahir; I'm a Khajiit; I was adopted by Nords when I was five years old, and while I was with them I was named Sorja Little-Wish; I grew up in Solitude and have lived in Skyrim my entire life except for the two months my birth parents spent traveling from Elsweyr to Skyrim; I've been roaming Western Skyrim with a caravan since I was twelve years old; I'm a very happy, excitable person and don't particularly enjoy dwelling on the bad past (but, being a teenager, sometimes I can't stop myself from doing so); I have absolutely no sense of direction, but a very good memory, and the Thalmor are after my birth parents. And possibly me, too, but I don't like to think about that.

 

My real parents were named M'nara and K'tabe, and I lived with them until I was five years old. Then, I was given to Roghild and Erisla Little-Wish, who were nobles from Solitude before them and their birth daughter, Sigirek, up and left when I was twelve, giving me to a caravan camped out in front of the city before running off into the night. I haven't heard from them since, same with my birth parents.

 

Now, I'm fifteen years old, and have grown fond of being on the road all the time. I travel with five others, and we're some an odd, happy family. There's me, the fifteen-year-old, parentless and tiny wanderer; Dar'zahn and Do'thri-dar, the two guards; my best friend M'zami, who turned seventeen back in Morning Star and is always over-excited about something; M'zami's mother, Idhisa, my boss and the merchant, and then there's Dro'shuji, Idhisa's mother and an expert alchemist. Possibly a mage, too.

 

Idhisa says I have something called a “wanderlust” because I always want to be on the move and am easily distracted by said desire to wander around. I've always been that way, even back in

Solitude. There were a lot of places I wasn't allowed to go to, but I'd always find a way in. I would often sucker my two friends Gisli and El into these situations, even though they weren't the exploring type. I'm very persuasive, you see. The best “adventure” we had together was when I was nine years old, El was twelve, and Gisli was almost fourteen, and we managed to climb onto the roof of the Blue Palace. The view was great and it became our favorite spot to hang out.

 

Well, until we got caught a few weeks later when we tried to get up there again...turns out that the High King's son Torygg liked to go up there too, and then the guards found the four of us two weeks after that and we all got in trouble. Torygg wasn't allowed to hang out with us anymore, Gisli got in HUGE trouble with her older brother, and I got lectured by Roghild and Erisla about how it wasn't safe and it would be especially dangerous for me to get in trouble with the guards, and that their nobility wouldn't always be around to save my tail. I always thought it was because I was a Khajiit in a Nord city, but now that I think about it, it was probably because of the Thalmor presence. Kynareth knows why the Thalmor want me, though.

 

But anyway, yes, I like to wander. Idhisa says that I have to be careful though, because it might get me into really big trouble someday. Like, worse trouble than when I hid in an empty coffin in the Hall of the Dead and jumped out at people on Jester's Day several years ago.

 

I also really like books. I had an entire set of _2920, The Last Year of the First Era_ back when I was a kid in Solitude that I was very proud of. Of course, it's gone now...but maybe someday I can rebuild it, as well as the rest of the massive collection Roghild had. As of right now, I don't have much, book-wise. They weigh too much and nobody buys them, so Idhisa won't carry them around. If I want one, I have to carry it myself. I have a book holder hooked to my belt, but there's only room for two and I already have to put this book in it. Oh well, maybe I'll find something really good to read that I won't feel about using the second slot for.

 

I'm pretty much useless when it comes to fighting, which we have to do a lot of. Being on the road all the time makes us targets for bandits, those Forsworn types out in the Reach, bored soldiers, and the wildlife. I can scratch something (or someone) up pretty badly with my claws, know enough about using a dagger so that I don't accidentally stab myself, know one destruction spell, and can hit a target if it stays still with a bow and arrow, but that's about it. I'm much more suited to alchemy, gardening, and running away. Dro'shuji has taken me under her wing for alchemy training since Idhisa is too shrewd-minded and M'zami always has her head in the clouds.

 

...well, I do too, but I can come back to Nirn when I need to. I doubt M'zami was ever here in the first place.

 

What else to write here? I have no idea.

 

Maybe the fact that we're going to Cyrodiil for a few weeks after we leave Whiterun? M'zami hasn't shut up about it since we got our boarder passes last week. I have no connection to Cyrodiil at all, while M'zami spent most of her childhood in Leyawiin. But that's a long story for another day.

 

Part of the reason that we're going is that one of Idhisa's younger sisters, who lives in Bruma, is expecting a litter two weeks from now, and it's some cultural thing that sisters always attend the birth of their nieces and nephews. I couldn't explain, since I was “corrupted by Nords” as Dro'shuji puts it. Since I spent most of my formative years as the only Khajiit in Solitude, surrounded by humans and elves, I didn't get much exposure to Khajiit culture. I had to learn everything either from the few books about Khajiit that I could get my hands on, and now, secondhand from Dro'shuji and Idhisa. I have picked up a few things from them, but even after four years I'm still very much a Nord. I always tell Dro'shuji that if everything were written down, I could learn, but she just laughed and said books were silly. “Khajiit never forget, so why write things down?” she always says.

 

That would be when Idhisa waves her off and says something about her “desert upbringing not applying to now”, Dro'shuji reminds her that she also grew up in the desert, and M'zami and I wander off while they bicker. Not many Khajiit can read, and even fewer know how to write. I guess I'm just lucky I got dropped in the lap of Nord nobles? Why in a city with a large Thalmor presence instead of, say, Winterhold, I'll never know.

 

It's starting to get dark and the bugs are coming out. Dro'shuji needs more luna moth wings, so I better get to that before it's too late at night. I'll write more tomorrow.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

 

 

Turdas, 14 th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

I said that I would write more yesterday, but there just wasn't anything of interest that happened other than M'zami and I just wandering aimlessly. It's extremely boring when we aren't on the move, but luckily we packed up early and left for Helgen. Normally, when we leave Whiterun, we'll go to Helgen for a day, then to Falkreath, but this time when we leave Helgen we'll be going up the Pale Pass to Cyrodiil. I guess it is exciting, since I'll be seeing new places, but in reality I'm worried about heading deeper into the Empire's territory.

 

I should probably mention my thoughts on the Civil War going on, shouldn't I?

 

In reality, I don't really know what to think. Ulfric Stormcloak murdered Torygg, and he was sort of an old friend of mine. Maybe a friend of a friend, since he and El were pretty close (even after the incident at the Blue Palace), and El was my best friend before M'zami. So yeah, I'm pretty angry about the rebellion.

 

On the other hand, Thalmor. The Empire lets the Thalmor call the shots, and the Thalmor are the reason I'm even in Skyrim and not in Elsweyr. And where was the Empire when the Thalmor started their purges that both sets of parents always mentioned when they thought I wasn't paying attention? The Empire's cooperation is what is going to lead to me eventually getting dragged off if someone doesn't stop them. But who would be brave (or stupid) enough to try that?

 

Idhisa says that I'm too young to understand, despite the fact that there are probably people younger than me fighting in the conflict. My older sister Sigirek became a mercenary when she was thirteen! That was part of the whole story that was made up by the Little-Wish's to explain why a small red-haired cat suddenly showed up in Solitude. Sigirek, being a mercenary, went to go after some bandits that were causing some problems near the border into the Reach, and found that they had left me alive after ambushing the caravan my parents were part of. She brought me back, and I was passed off as an “experiment” to show that if a Khajiit was raised “properly”, I wouldn't become a thief or a smuggler.

 

The real story is much less exciting. Erisla met with my parents beforehand and agreed to take me. Then, after I fell asleep for the night, they bundled me up in a grey blanket and tucked me into a small pocket of rocks on the Reach side of the big Dragon Bridge. Sigirek came and found me later, and when I woke up I was in a bedroom in a big fancy house in Solitude.

 

But that's a story for another day. Right now I need to share one that happened today.

 

So we got delayed when we left Whiterun today thanks to an end-of-summer thunderstorm that hit this morning, and we ended up leaving in the early afternoon instead. While on the road towards Riverwood, M'zami's backpack straps (which have been pretty weak for a while, come to think of it) snapped right off. Thanks to that, we had to actually stop in Riverwood for a few hours so that the blacksmith could repair it. Normally it would be a fast sewing job that even Do'thri-dar could fix (he's not very bright), but they snapped so fast and so badly that they yanked part of the cloth in the backpack clean off and left a bunch of giant, gaping holes. A lot of her stuff tumbled out, so we had to scatter around and grab what we could before it rolled back down the hill and into the river.

 

There we were, stuck in Riverwood, having M'zami's backpack patched up so that it would hold together until we could get her a new one in Cyrodiil, when Idhisa actually gave us some money to go buy something from the general store! She almost never does that unless it's near our birthdays!

 

Anyway, we went and poked around in the store for a little while. The owners were arguing about something being stolen before we came in, and M'zami got far too interested in the subject. She even suggested that we go looking for this thing that was stolen! I may have a wanderlust, but I'm not one for going after some thief! We're traveling merchants, not traveling mercenaries!

 

I managed to talk M'zami out of it, of course, since there was no way Idhisa would let us go running off on our own, let alone to chase down a thief. I mean, yeah, it would be pretty cool to go on an adventure like that, but...I'm just not of adventuring stock, you know? My mother was an apprentice healer and my father was a guard before they left Elsweyr. Roghild was in the Legion and actually knew Ulfric Stormcloak, and Erisla was a healer-turned-priestess. Sigirek was a mercenary, but I'm not actually related to them in any way. They just took care of me until they left me with Idhisa and vanished without any explanation. I'd quite like things to be as normal as possible for now on, thank you very much!

 

Despite M'zami's attempted adventure, we did both find things to buy. M'zami bought a bunch of colorful beads to put in her hair, while I got a new green hood. Green is my favorite color and I wear it a lot since it matches my eyes. M'zami mostly wears gold and purple (and very low cut) dresses that look very nice on her. She has very dark brown fur and black hair, so almost anything looks good on her and she gets a lot of attention from men (and some women, too). Meanwhile, I can almost never find things that look nice on me since I'm orange with bright red hair, and nothing looks good with that combination. Green is at least tolerable looking. Dar'zahn once told me when I was thirteen that if I cut all of my hair off it would grow back a different color, but Idhisa stopped me just before M'zami started to hack away at it with her dagger and twisted Dar'zahn's ear for “feeding lies to little girls”. It was pretty funny to watch, since he's way taller than Idhisa but couldn't defend himself from her. And he's one of the guards!

 

Anyway, we both got something and went down to the river until it was time to go. We spent some time launching pebbles at the fish in the water, but then she abandoned me to go flirt with one of the workers at the lumber mill. Typical M'zami.

 

When we eventually did get moving along to Helgen, it started raining. That slowed us down even more, so it was pretty late when we finally got to the wall and set up camp. We couldn't get the two other tents set up because the rain got even worse, so the best we could do was put some sheets of leather over the top of the main tent and hope that it didn't leak and that the ground inside would dry off quickly. This is the part I hate the most about not being allowed inside of the walled cities and towns like Helgen; in the small towns like Dragon Bridge and Rorikstead, we're allowed to take a room in the inn if the weather is bad. In the walled cities, not so much. It isn't too bad during the early summer when it's warm out, but the rest of the year is difficult because of all of the snow and rain.

 

Skyrim's weather is awful, but at least there aren't any sandstorms like there sometimes are in Elsweyr. I'd much prefer a face full of snow and ice than a face full of sand and rocks.

 

Anyway, it's getting really late and everyone wants to sleep. I could keep writing if I was in my own tent with M'zami, but since we're all in one tent...yeah, you get it.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

Loredas, 16th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

I can't believe it. M'zami went and broke her foot.

 

We hadn't even been over the border for fifteen minutes and she already had some sort of disaster happen. Typical M'zami.

 

Worse yet, we're out of the healing potions that fix broken bones. I don't know why some healing potions fix broken bones while others don't, but Dro'shuji says it's something about the ingredients used. There's a certain combination of properties or whatever. I'm not at the level where I can make them correctly yet, but I do know which ingredients are used.

 

So guess who had to go find some for Dro'shuji? Me.

 

Doesn't help that it's late, either. We had a bit of a delay getting out of Helgen this morning and it took a while to cross the border, so it was evening by the time M'zami fell. Now I'm rooting around in the woods in the dark, turning rocks over to try and find that one specific fungus Dro'shuji needs. I really don't mind helping since I enjoying working with ingredients, I just wish it wasn't this late. I can only see so much in the dark, even if I am a giant cat.

 

So far I've found enough of these mushrooms to make two potions, but it generally takes four to make the bones heal correctly. Two to drink, two to apply to the affected area. Drink one, wait twelve hours, drink another. Apply the paste, wait six hours, wash it off, wait another six hours, reapply, wait...yeah, it's tedious.

 

Luckily I should be done soon, and my system for getting back to the road should probably bust this whole “no sense of direction” problem I have. I took a bunch of throwing knives with me, and every few feet or so, I stab one into a tree. Then, when I'm done, just follow the knives back to the road. Simple!

 

Anyway, I should probably get back to looking. I need to get back soon before everyone starts to wo

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sundas, 17th of Last Seed, 4E 201 – Part 1

It was a sudden jolt that brought Zahrassa back to reality, but her vision didn't return as quickly as it should have. That was her first clue that something was very, very wrong.

 

The first thing she noticed was that she was leaning heavily on something sturdy and covered in fur.

 

The second thing she noticed was the fact that she and the unknown furry object she was leaning on were in a moving cart.

 

The third thing she noticed was that her hands were bound behind her back.

 

Zahrassa sat bolt upright, her vision finally clearing up and revealing the figures that were sitting around her. Most of them were wearing Stormcloak uniforms, but one man with dark hair that wasn't in any sort of uniform looked like he was on the verge of panic.

 

_ Oh no...  _ she groaned when she felt a throb from the back of her head, making a faint memory of the night before return.

 

Zahrassa had just finished gathering ingredients for Dro'shuji so that she could make the potion to fix M'zami's ankle when she heard a twig snap and stopped her writing short. She began following the throwing knives that she had stabbed into the trees to prevent her from getting lost when she left the road, keeping her dagger at the ready in one hand as she supposedly stomped away from the potential danger. As it turns out, poor Zahrassa had been walking right towards it, but she was so focused on getting back to the road that she didn't notice. When she made it back to the road, the first and last thing she saw before everything went blank were Imperial soldiers with a bunch of Stormcloak prisoners in tow. Someone must have knocked her out shortly afterwards.

 

“Hey,  you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?” the blond man sitting directly across from Zahrassa said, nodding.

 

“Border?” she mumbled. The back of her head throbbed once again, making her vision cloud back over, and she laid her head back against the furry lump that was next to her to try and dull the pain. It worked for just a few seconds, because almost as soon as her head began to rest, the lump moved away. Zahrassa groaned and slumped forward, starting to feel ill. “What happened?”

 

“Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.” the blond man responded. Zahrassa sat back up, tears of pain starting to well in the corners of her vivid yellow-green eyes.

 

“Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell,” the dark-haired man who was presumably the thief muttered before looking directly at the small Khajiit. “You there. You and me - we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants.”

 

“I...don't understand what's going on,” she mumbled once again, swaying slightly as the throbbing in her head came to a rest once more.

 

“We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief.” The blond man snapped at the dark-haired man.

 

“Shut up back there!” The driver of the cart snapped, causing another throb in Zahrassa's head. One of the tears that had formed dripped into her lap, staining the light brown dress she was wearing.

 

“And what's wrong with him, huh?” the thief asked after a few painful minutes of silence and head pain, indicating towards the furry lump Zahrassa had been leaning on just a few moments ago.

 

“Watch your tongue. You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!” The blond snapped as she slowly turned to look. As soon as he said “Ulfric”, she felt my heart stop.

 

Zahrassa didn't know what province she was in, where they were going, or why she was tied up, but she now knew one thing: _I'm sitting next to the man who killed one of my childhood friends_. One thing she still didn't know was what to do about this. _Should I say something to him? Should I bite him or hit him or some combination of the two?_

 

The thief and the blond were still talking, but Zahrassa didn't hear them anymore. She was too focused on the death glare she was giving Ulfric, willing him to look her in the eye and still trying to figure out how to react.

 

“You killed my friend,” she eventually managed to say, her voice eerily calm and quiet despite the situation they were in. Her harsh glare relaxed into a blank, emotionless stare as Ulfric turned to look at her. Now that Zahrassa had eye contact, any kind of hatred she could have mustered in the few minutes of clarity mysteriously evapourated. It was instead replaced by some sort of exasperated curiosity. A few minutes ago she was ready to bite his face off, but now she just wanted to know _why_.  “Torygg. He was my friend. Why?”

 

_That was a dumb thing to say. He has a gag on, after all..._

 

“I said shut up back there!” The Imperial solider driving the cart snapped.

 

“You don't remember me, I guess...” she said quietly, looking down at her thin hands and pulling against the binds. It  _ was _ a long time ago, after all...

 

She was six years old and had only been with the Little-Wish's for a year. She couldn't remember exactly why, but Ulfric had come to visit Roghild, who were friends after serving in the Legion together during the Great War. Zahrassa had been in the cellar playing with her older sister Sigirek when she heard the front door open. She had always run to the door whenever it opened because she wanted to be the first to see Roghild whenever he got home, so she hugged her doll to her tiny chest and went bounding up the stairs. Normally, Zahrassa would have kept running until she collided with Roghild's legs, and he would pick her up and ask how his “kitten” was. It had been her favorite part of the evening, and if Roghild wasn't home at the normal time she would sit in front of the door and wait.

 

That evening, Zahrassa bolted up the stairs, but instead of running into Roghild's legs, she ran right into Ulfric's. Zahrassa was so startled by the fact that the man she had clung to was not her adoptive father that she ran to hide under the kitchen table. At that point in her life, Zahrassa was proficient enough in Tamrielic that she had almost completely forgotten all but one phrase in Ta'agra that her real mother had always told her when she was nervous, so every time she was scared or startled, she would start repeating it over and over again until she felt safe once more.

 

Ulfric was pretty startled, too, walking into the Little-Wish house only to be struck by a small cat who ran away screaming “shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten” as fast as she had appeared.

 

_ Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten...be brave my smiling girl... _ Zahrassa thought to herself, sighing. The longer the cart ride dragged on, the more scared she began to feel. She hadn't said or thought anything close to 'shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten' since she had started traveling with Idhisa when she twelve years old.  _ Maybe now is a good time to start again? _

 

Zahrassa looked up from her lap and finally recognized the landscape; Falkreath Hold. The walls of Helgen were approaching and she nervously held my breath. She would be inside of a walled settlement for the first time in three years, but instead of her own free will it was in bindings. The very fact that they were stopping in Helgen...no...

 

“Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten...” she gasped, bringing her bound hands up to her throat. That was when Zahrassa noticed that her father's Amulet of Kynareth was no longer securely around her neck and her mother's golden wedding ring was gone from its rightful place on her left ring finger.

 

“General Tullius, stop!” A shrill voice called out. Zahrassa twisted her head around to see a tall Altmer woman arguing with an older man, who was probably General Tullius. Her stomach dropped when she saw the Thalmor robes she was wearing. _My father's amulet gone, my mother's wedding ring gone, Thalmor in the city, the fact that I'm sitting next to Ulfric Stormcloak..._

 

“Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten... Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten... Shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten...” she panted in a faint whisper, her heart nearly stopping once again. The only logical answer she could think of was that she had walked into an Imperial ambush, was back in Skyrim, and was probably going to have her head cut off for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Worse yet, Idhisa would have no idea where Zahrassa was or if she was dead or alive. New tears started to form, only instead of from the pain in the back of her head it was from sheer terror. The only thing of hers that she still had other than the clothes on her back was her diary, which had been shoved carelessly into her corset when she first started making her way back to the road the night before. _A book isn't going to be much help for me now._

 

The carriage rolled through town and Zahrassa kept my head down, shaking like a newborn deer standing for the first time. There was no way out of this; keep silent, her head gets cut off; tell them that she was the long lost Sorja Little-Wish, and she gets dagged off by the Thalmor woman.  _ Sure, I could probably escape from her, but what if I didn't? _

 

“You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!” the thief yelled as the carriage rolled to a stop and the occupants were ushered off. One of the soldiers just shoved the thief aside and motioned for Zahrassa to jump off, looking almost bored. Zahrassa remained still, warily looking at the drop to the ground compared to how small she was/ Irritated, the soldier grabbed her by the ribs and roughly swung her down to the ground. She couldn't get my footing due to how fast it happened and fell flat on her face with a whimper.

 

“Up!” The soldier snapped, grabbing Zahrassa by the collar of her dress and violently yanking her to her feet. She started to sob quietly as the soldier shoved her forwards into the line of Stormcloaks, who were all having their names called out. They kept bumping Zahrassa around as she stumbled forward, trying as hard as she could to get her footing and not fall over again.

 

“Lokir of Rorikstead!” One of the soldiers called out, and all eyes turned to the thief.

 

“No, I'm not a rebel. You can't do this!” Lokir yelled before running off. Zahrassa briefly entertained the idea of going after him; she would run after him, ask him to take her to Cyrodiil, _I would find Idhisa, and everything would be fin-_

 

“Archers!” The captain called, and Zahrassa was treated to the sight of Lokir being filled with arrows. It took forever for him to actually fall, and even longer to stop screaming and finally die. Zahrassa's chest started to heave with panic and it took every once of willpower she had within her tiny body to not scream. Zahrassa had never actually seen someone die before, let alone so...gruesomely.

 

“You there! Step forward!”

 

The captain was pointing at Zahrassa now. She remained rooted to the spot, still in shock at what she had just witnessed and frozen in terror.

 

“I...I...” she whispered.  _ What is that going to accomplish, Zahrassa, you big idiot? _

 

“I said 'STEP FORWARD'!” The captain screeched, and Zahrassa took a tiny, staggering step towards her and the soldier standing by her. “Don't be funny, cat!”

 

With tears streaming down her face and small whimpers coming out of her throat, Zahrassa continued to take small, staggering steps towards them. Soft murmurs were coming from the crowd of Stormcloaks behind her and a few of the townspeople that had gathered to watch the execution.

 

“She's not one of us, there's no way!”

 

“Look at how small she is, she probably isn't even ten years old...”

 

“I can't believe Ulfric would have children fighting on his side, shame on him!”

 

“They're not going to execute a child, are they?”

 

“Probably hasn't even touched a toy weapon in her life,”

 

“Damn rebels have child soldiers now, don't they? Bastards,”

 

“I don't think she's a rebel, she looks too young,”

 

“And you are...?” The soldier asked, flipping through a small booklet while holding his quill between his fingers.

 

“I...” Zahrassa managed to stammer out, the panic obvious in her voice. The Thalmor woman appeared behind the captain and the soldier and looked over the crowd of rebels as if she were sizing up a piece of meat. There was no way either of Zahrassa's names, Zahrassa Barahir and Sorja Little-Wish, were on the list that the soldier was holding, but they were probably on the Thalmor woman's list. It was either give a fake name and probably get her head chopped off by the Imperials, or give her real name and get her head chopped off by the Thalmor. _Or death by torture. Or-_

 

“Your name?”

 

_Well, maybe there was a chance the Imperials would let me go! I haven't done anything wrong, and the influence of the Little-Wish last name would be enough to set me free! Even then, I could still probably escape being dragged away by the Thalmor, I'm a fast runner and good at hiding. It would be easier and safer to escape one unarmed Thalmor agent than to try and escape a bunch of armed Imperials who had just killed a man right in front of me..._

 

“Do you speak Tamrielic?” The soldier asked gently.

 

Sorja it is.

 

“Y-yes, I speak it,” Zahrassa stammered, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Why do you want to kill me?”

 

“We need your name first,” he answered. Zahrassa took a huge, deep breath, and chanced a glance over at the Thalmor agent. She was glaring murderously at Ulfric, so she probably wasn't paying attention. Zahrassa almost hoped that she was paying attention since her prospect of escape and survival looked much better if she did.

 

“Sorja. I'm Sorja Little-Wish,” she stated, praying that her voice wouldn't shake. The soldier nearly dropped his quill as another murmur went through the crowd.

 

“Little-Wish? I thought they disappeared years ago!”

 

“I knew they had adopted a daughter, I didn't know it was a Khajiit!”

 

“There's no way that's Sorja, the Little-Wish clan are Nords!”

 

“What's Sorja doing with a bunch of rebels?”

 

“Figures Erisla would have brought in a cat, the woman was all about helping the unfortunate,”

 

_ Do you remember me now, Ulfric? _ Zahrassa thought, quickly glancing at him over her shoulder.

 

“She's not on the list, captain.” The soldier said, having recovered from his shock. The captain continued to stare at Zahrassa, so she gave her a pleading look.

 

“Forget the list. She goes to the block!” the Captain eventually concluded after what felt like forever. There was an outcry from the Stormcloaks behind Zahrassa, but she barely heard what they were yelling; she was too consumed by her own blinding panic.

 

“No, please don't hurt me! I've never held a sword in my life! I'm only fifteen!” she sobbed, eliciting a few gasps from the townspeople.

 

“To the block!” the Captain commanded.

 

“I'm sorry,” the soldier next to her said sadly, giving Zahrassa a sympathetic look as he wrote something down. “Do you having any living family in Elsweyr? We'll make sure your remains are sent to them.”

 

“R-remains?” Zahrassa wheezed. “I...no, I don't have any family...anywhere.”

 

There was a small commotion behind her as the Imperial soldiers began organizing the Stormcloaks, and Tullius began to address Ulfric, but Zahrassa wouldn't be able to pay attention, even if she tried; she was scared for her life and had no way ou- _wait, I do have a way out!_

 

“Help me, please, don't let them hurt me! I'll tell you anything you need to know!” Zahrassa mouthed at the Thalmor agent, who was now looking directly at her. Frightened beyond belief, Zahrassa let the tears fall freely. _If I can play with her emotions just enough to get her to feel something, anything, towards me, she might step in. It worked when I was younger, after all..._

 

The headsman's axe swung into the air and Zahrassa squeezed her eyes shut.

 

“Tullius, stop!” The Thalmor woman yelled, pointing at Zahrassa and striding forward. Zahrassa swallowed her urge to run away from the agent as fast as she could and remained rooted to the spot, shaking. In a strange twist of things, she had become her momentary protector, and Zahrassa needed to save the adrenaline for when she ran away from her after getting out of this place.

 

“Madame Ambassador, I said no!” Tullius cried out, also stepping forward.

 

“Erisla and Sigirek Little-Wish are wanted by the Aldmeri Dominion, and I am not about to let you execute my last chance at finding their whereabouts! Unless you want your Emperor to hear about your lack of cooperation, I suggest you listen!” the Ambassador woman snapped, cutting him off. People were staring, and the headsman had stopped mid-swing.

 

“Carry on with the executions while I sort this out!” Tullius sighed, exasperated. He grabbed Zahrassa roughly by the arm and dragged her towards the Ambassador. Zahrassa stumbled along, her eyes still shut, and she didn't open them until she heard the sickening sound of one of the Stormcloaks getting his head cut off.

 

Blood was thundering through Zahrassa's head as she and Tullius approached the Ambassador, and as soon as she was arms length away from her, the Ambassador reached out and grabbed Zahrassa's other arm with a painfully strong grip. She yanked Zahrassa close as soon as Tullius let go of her arm, and Zahrassa instinctively opened her eye and and twisted her neck so that her face was pressed into the Ambassador's side.

 

“Elenwen, this is ridiculous!” Tullius snapped.

 

“You know that you were ordered to bring Ulfric to the Imperial City upon his capture!”

 

“The sooner he is dead, the sooner this war ends!”

 

Another head sliced off. Zahrassa whined pathetically and grabbed Elenwen's wrist with her free hand like she did to Erisla and her biological mother when she was little and afraid of things that were happening around her. Elenwen's grip relaxed somewhat when Zahrassa kept whimpering.

 

“You were  _ ordered. _ ” Elenwen snarled. The two continued to bicker while the priestess read another prisoner their last rights, when there was suddenly a strange roar from somewhere in the sky.

 

“What was that?” The captain yelled. Zahrassa let her face out of its safety of Elewen's side to look up at the sky like everyone else, blinking as the bright sunlight hit her eyes.

 

“It's nothing, carry on!” Tullius ordered after a few seconds of just staring at the sky. Zahrassa barely managed to hide her face in time when another head came flying off.

 

“Mama...” she whined unwillingly, flinching. The same ill feeling began to develop in the pit of her stomach stomach once again, this time fueled by her embarrassment at hiding her face in a Thalmor agent's robes and crying when she was fifteen years old, but what else could she do?

 

“Fine!” Tullius cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “You get the kid and Ulfric, but I'm keeping the rest.”

 

Another roar, this one sounding closer. Zahrassa didn't even bother looking up and just tightened her grip on Elenwen's wrist.  _ Please, lets just go...stop fighting so that I can run away... _

 

“There it is again...”

 

Elenwen started to tug Zahrassa along, but it was much more gentle than what she had expected from a Thalmor agent, of all people. It was more of a guiding tug that a mother would do with her child, not a rough tug that a guard would do with a criminal. Zahrassa squeezed her eyes shut and kept her face down as she stumbled along, trying to keep her whining to a minimum as Elewen guided her along.

 

“WHAT IN  _ OBLIVION  _ IS  _ THAT?! _ ” Tullius shouted, and suddenly the roar came back right over Zahrassa's head. Elenwen stopped short and Zahrassa looked up to see a big, black dragon sitting on top of one of the towers.

 

“IT'S A DRAGON!” Someone screamed.

 

For a split second, the dragon and Zahrassa made eye contact. Then, it opened its mouth, and everything changed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I hope you're enjoying this story! This chapter took a little longer than the others because I originally wrote the story in first-person perspective, but I decided to switch to third-person in the fourth chapter because it worked better. Hence, I had to go through and rework the first few chapters so that they were also in third person. Updates will now be much swifter, possibly once every other day now.
> 
> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Sundas, 17 th of Last Seed, 4E 201 – Part 2

Zahrassa was in a daze for the second time today, only this time it was because _something_ that dragon did made her go flying backwards onto the ground, where she hit my head once again. Fire and chunks of rock were raining down around her, making the ground shake as Zahrassa attempted to get back to her feet. She couldn't see anything in front of her thanks to the returned blurry vision and the smoke everywhere, so she started to blindly stumble forward. Something huge landed right next to her, knocking her back to the ground. Another giant rock landed behind her, creating a vicious shock wave that moved her forward several more feet. This time she didn't bother trying to get up; death by falling, flaming rocks seemed like a very good idea right now.

 

Hands grabbed her upper arms and started to drag Zahrassa back to her feet, but another falling rock sent both her and whoever was trying to grab her flying across the ground once more. This time, Zahrassa's forehead broke the fall, the sheer force of the landing smashing the front her skull. Nearly blinded by the fire, smoke, and pain, Zahrassa struggled to get on all fours and to crawl in any direction that could provide some sort of shelter.

 

The unknown hands grabbed her once again, this time by the scruff of her neck. Whoever it was hauled Zahrassa up to her feet and used their other hand to steady her on the swaying ground. Smoke filled her lungs and she began to cough violently, attempting to stumble away from whoever had their hold on her, the crashing around her beginning to sound like it was moving farther and farther away. Zahrassa nearly fell once again and cried out from the pain of leaning forward with a broken skull, the hands barely keeping her on her feet. One of the hands that was holding on to her let go while the other shifted her so that she was slumped face-first against the unknown person's thin arm. Tilting Zahrassa slightly backwards, one of the hands gently came down to rest over her face, obscuring her rapidly-dwindling range of vision.

 

Zahrassa's eyes popped and nearly rolled back into her head from the pain of her broken forehead being touched, and the sudden light coming out of nothing was blinding. As quickly as it had appeared it vanished, the hand uncovering Zahrassa's face. She could feel the broken pieces of her skull zip back together, any of the pain she had been suffering from completely vanishing.

 

Now that everything was clear to Zahrassa, she realized that she now had the perfect opportunity to escape from whoever was holding her and make a break for freedom outside of the burning city

 

With every single ounce of strength she could muster, Zahrassa worked her bound hands up to use as a brace against the stomach of whoever was clutching her. The person started to move away, Zahrassa being half-carried, half-dragged by them, and the adrenaline rush kicked and took over every action. With strength Zahrassa didn't know she possessed, she shoved against the unknown person as hard as she could.

 

The person yelped and stumbled, losing their hold on Zahrassa. Mind swimming, she shoved against them once more, sending them crashing to the ground. She could barely survey what was going on around her, only that people were running and screaming and some others were running towards a tower while the dragon circled overhead. Fire and smoke surrounding Zahrassa, she took off like a shot towards the tower, mowing whoever had been holding her down and dodging the falling debris and bodies as best as she possibly could. After what felt like forever, she skittered through the entry into the tower and collided with another person that had taken shelter.

 

“Good to see you're still alive, kiddo!”

 

Zahrassa turned to see the blond man that had been sitting across from her in the carriage leaning heavily against the wall, nursing a large gash on his face.

 

“You too!” She cried, almost smiling.  _ What a relief...at least there's someone here that isn't trying to kill me... _

 

“Could the old legends be true?” Another man that was in the tower cried. Zahrassa turned once more, working her hands against the binds that were still holding them together.

 

“Legends don't burn down villages.”

 

_So Ulfric is in here, too?_

 

“Do you remember me now?!” Zahrassa snapped upon seeing him leaning against the door frame, looking out in the chaos that was unfolding in the streets. The adrenaline rush was starting to reduce her into hysterics.

 

“Vaguely,” he answered, grabbing a steel dagger laying on the floor. Instead of doing the smart thing and running away from the danger, Zahrassa stumbled towards the door frame. Ulfric threw out an arm to stop her in her tracks as she nearly stepped out the entryway. “Not safe.”

 

“But I need to get out!”

 

With a fast, sudden slice, the bindings on her hands fell away and Ulfric shoved the dagger into her hands.

 

“Ralof, get everyone to safety!” He demanded as he shoved Zahrassa at the blond man. _So much for finding the biggest guy in the room to save me, as Sigirek always told me to do..._

 

“Yes sir!” Ralof cried, grabbing Zahrassa's wrist and hauling her up the crumbling stairs. “Come on kid, lets go!”

 

Zahrassa blindly stumbled along after him, reaching the point where she no longer cared who or what got her out of this crumbling insanity of a city. _I don't care who else grabs me, as long as I get out of this damn city with my head still on my shoulders!_

 

“Careful!” Ralof screamed as the dragon came crashing through the wall, angrily breathing a spout of fire into the new hole before taking off. Small hunks of debris fell from the staircase above the two, a small rock hitting Zahrassa right on top of her head...again.

 

“You alright, kid?” A Stormcloak behind her yelled as she stumbled ant clapped a hand onto the new ache.

 

“I'm getting sick and tired of things hitting me in the head!” She shrieked angrily, aggressively rubbing the hurting spot on her head. _If I get out of here without a concussion, I'll punch a wolf in the face!_

 

“Aren't we all?” Ralof chimed in, leaning through the gap to survey what was going on outside. “Alright kid, it's not safe to head out the door. You're going to have to jump into the tavern below, see?”

 

Zahrassa leaned through the gap to look at the huge, burning hole in the roof of what used to be the tavern. _That's a long way down..._

 

“I'm going to get everyone out before I jump, so I'll meet up with you later. Just get to the Keep and you'll be fine!”

 

“Are you kidding?!” she cried, “That fall looks dangerous!”

 

“You Khajiit kids like adventuring, right? Think of it as an adventure!”

 

_ Adventure. _

 

Zahrassa felt her heart in her throat as she thought of M'zami. Zahrassa could die here and she'd never know...

 

_No, I can't think about that! I'm going to live, I'm going to get out of here, and I'll be able to see her again soon! I just have to jump through a hole in a roof...I might as well be trying to thread a needle without licking the thread first!_

 

The ceiling above Zahrassa rumbled dangerously.

 

“Time for adventure, it seems...” she said flatly.

 

“That's it, kiddo, you can do it!” Ralof said proudly, lifting her up and balancing her on the ledge. Zahrassa looked down at the hole and grabbed the patch of fur at the base of her neck where her father's amulet was supposed to be. “Don't worry, I heard that cats always land on their feet!”

 

“Khenthari guide me...” she whispered, taking her other hand off of the wall. With a deep breath and a glance at the sky, Zahrassa pitched herself forward and plummeted towards the smoldering hole in the roof. The flaming ring approached quickly as Zahrassa oriented herself in a way that would enable her to land on her feet.

 

The floor groaned and shuddered as she landed with a soft  _ thud _ , her balance being thrown off and sending her sprawling to the floor face-first. She could hear cheers from above as she scrambled back to her feet and ran down the destroyed upper floor, sliding to yet another hole she needed to fall through so that her feet would once again be safely on the ground. The adrenaline was back in full swing as she turned around and jumped backwards, catching the ledge with her hands to stop the fall. She hung on for just a few seconds, let the let go, dropped to the floor, and took off through a gap in the wall.  _ Huh, maybe I should take up a career in acrobatics when I get out of here... _

 

“The Keep, the Keep, where in Oblivion is the Keep?!” She muttered to herself as she ran wildly through the streets, dodging burned bodies and piles of debris. Her brain was absolutely soaked by the amount of adrenaline that was coursing through her, so much that it wasn't able to properly process everything she was seeing and hearing. Its only focus was on survival, dead people littering the streets and collapsing buildings be damned!

 

“Still alive, prisoner? This way!”

 

_It's the man with the list!_

 

“How did you get your binds off...? Never mind, stick by if you want to live!” He said as Zahrassa appeared at his side, and she followed him behind a house that served as the only clear path that didn't have Thalmor, debris, bodies, or a dragon blocking it.

 

“I quite enjoy living, to be honest-”

 

The wall above her shattered as the dragon landed, and it spewed another column of fire. Zahrassa pressed her back against the wall's remains, heart racing as she felt the heat of its breath on her face. As soon as the dragon took off again, screeching and bellowing fire, the soldier grabbed her arm and shoved her out in front of him.

 

“Go! The Keep is that way!” He screamed, pointing towards the imposing building with singed banners hanging on the side. Zahrassa ran towards it, once again without second thought, feeling the burn in her leg muscles and lungs from the exertion and smoke in the air.

 

“Into the Keep!” Ralof yelled, appearing next to the door and swinging it open. Zahrassa ran inside with him hot on her heels, the sound of the door slamming shut being the last thing she heard of the utter destruction going on around her.

 

_I'm alive...!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Sundas, 17 th of Last Seed, 4E 201 – Part 3

“So...Little-Wish?”

 

“Yeah. Adopted. I was five years old.”

 

“That must have been strange, being a Khajiit living with Nords.”

 

Zahrassa shrugged and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “It wasn't that strange. I was so young, all that really changed was the language and level of education.”

 

The sun was beginning to set, just like her mood. Zahrassa had thought that running into the Keep would have been an end to the nightmare that was Helgen. She would stay in the Keep until the dragon went away, ask Ralof or one of the other soldiers to please take her to the Cyrodiil border, and then everything would return to normal. Instead, it was several bloody hours of fighting everyone and everything inside of the Keep and the escape cave they had taken, and she came out of it wearing the armor and hood of dead men, covered in blood and guts, and clutching onto an iron dagger as if her life had depended on it. The adrenaline wore off shortly after stumbling back into the sunlight with Ralof, and it was replaced by sheer horror at everything that had occurred. She watched people actually die in front of her for the first time, nearly died herself, and killed the torturer that came swinging at her with a mace. Nothing could ever be normal again.

 

“So were you originally named Sorja, or...?”

 

“No. That name was given to me when their other daughter found me and brought me home.”

 

“Do you remember your real name?”

 

“Ah, hmm...” Zahrassa said, pushing her bangs back with one of her hands. The leather of the too-large gloves she was wearing felt strange against her forehead.  _ I do remember my old name. The real question is if I trust you enough to tell you the real story or not.  _ “It's a...long story.”

 

“It's just a name,” Ralof laughed. Zahrassa cringed.  _ How can you be laughing after all that we've gone through in one day?! _

 

“I don't know if I can trust you or not.”

 

His laughter quieted and he came to a stop. Zahrassa stopped and turned to look at him.

 

“I hauled you to safety, you can trust me.”

 

“I know, I know. It's just...” She paused. “Thalmor.”

 

“Oh, I see.” The two started walking again, passing a sign that said Riverwood wasn't too far ahead. Someone in town would inevitably recognize her, and then she would have to tell the real story. “So where did you go? When the Little-Wish's vanished? Or can I not know that either?”

 

“I joined a trading caravan when they left. Been with them ever since...well, until now,” she answered. “My boss's sister was having babies and we were going to Cyrodiil to see her, it's a cultural thing, and my friend fell and broke her foot. Most regular health potions don't fix broken bones, so I volunteered to look for the ingredients that could do that. It was getting late, I heard something, and I went back to the road. That's when I saw the Imperials and everything after that is blank.”

 

“You must have accidentally wandered over the border.”

 

“I figured as much.” She shrugged and wiped her forehead again; it was very stuffy inside of the armor, and it didn't fit her properly at all. “The question is if I'll be able to get back over without my pass. I left it with my boss when I went to collect ingredients.”

 

“That...won't be possible for a while.” Ralof said softly. “They closed the border last night, about a half hour you showed up. That's why we were going to be executed in Hel-”

 

“Don't mention that place, I don't want to hear it ever again!” Zahrassa snapped, pressing her ears shut. Ralof gave her a confused stare, and she flushed. “I'm sorry, I'm just...not handling it very well.”

 

“The guards at the border said that they won't be opening it back off until the war is over.” He said after she uncovered my ears.

 

“Then I hope to Khenthari that it ends soon.” She murmured as her stomach dropped into her intestines and performed several impressive back flips.

 

“You look like a good fighter, maybe you could join up and help the cause. Someone as fast as you could end it in a week!”

 

“I don't think I can, I'm only fifteen. And the fighting you saw out of me was just adrenaline.” She stammered. “I'm a merchant, not a mercenary.”

 

Another pang in her stomach as she thought of M'zami.

 

“Anyone can fight if they try hard enough. It's not just brute strength, you know.”

 

“I know.” She murmured, the strain in her voice coming out. “I know.”

 

“Don't worry, Sorja, everything will be okay,” Ralof said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You're a good kid. I don't know many fifteen-year-old girls who could kick butt like you did. I watched you mow down that elf like she was nothing.”

 

_ So it was Elenwen that had healed me after my head got smashed in...? Why would she do that? Probably because she wanted to bring me in alive. I'm no good for the Thalmor if I'm dead. _

 

“Thanks, Ralof.” Zahrassa said quietly. “It's nice to have a friend.”

 

“No problem. I'm here if you need anything.” He said, patting her shoulder. “Riverwood's just up ahead. My sister can get you patched up.”

 

The walked along in silence until the familiar wooden structures were upon them. The sun was still gently setting, casting long shadows and people milled about in the street, enjoying the dwindling light. Two children and a dog were running around chasing each other, the blacksmith was hammering away at something, one man was arguing with his mother...if she closed her eyes, it was almost as if she and the caravan were still together and almost to Whiterun after a long day of travel. All that was needed was M'zami's endless yammering in the background.

 

“Hey Ralof?” Zahrassa asked, opening her eyes back to reality. There was no caravan, no loud M'zami, no tents, but there was the town, and that was all she needed to see to put herself at ease for the time being.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“It's Zahrassa.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Morndas, 18 th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

Getting through the night was not as easy as I had hoped it would have been.

 

When Ralof and I arrived in Riverwood, we went to talk to his sister Gerdur at the mill. She was extremely kind, which I'm very grateful for. She went and got me a dress from the blacksmith's daughter, fed me, and washed the blood out of my armor. I should be glad that there are people trying to take care of me, and I am, but I feel trapped. I'm just so...freaked out by all that happened yesterday that I can't calm down. Last night was just nightmare after nightmare of either that dragon eating me or my head getting chopped off. I eventually gave up trying to sleep and just sat in front of the fire until everyone else woke up. It doesn't help that Hod, Gergur's husband, said that I should go to Whiterun to let the Jarl know about the dragon, and Ralof can't come with me. The Imperials know that he's a Stormcloak, but I'm just a kid and don't have to hide. I don't think I can even get to Whiterun on my own!

 

Speaking of Hod, he suggested that I try to keep myself busy so that my mind stays off of what happened at...gods, I can't even write the name without getting a bad feeling in my stomach.

 

I took his advice and followed him and Gerdur to the mill this morning. I was given an axe and told to chop wood, but that didn't work out too well. I tried to swing it, but I wasn't strong enough and my aim was off. The one time I did hit a log I was supposed to cut, it didn't go all the way through and the axe got stuck. When I tried to pull it out, the head popped off and I hit myself in the face with the stick so hard I knocked myself over. The blacksmith's wife, Sigrid, had been visiting with Gerdur and saw the entire thing happen. She started crying with laughter while I lay there on the ground. 

 

In a daze.

 

Again.

 

I need to invest in a helmet.

 

The other workers saw it happen as well and collapsed from laughing. Looking back, it really was kind of funny watching someone knock themselves out with the handle of an axe, but it certainly wasn't funny for me at the time! I'm surprised I haven't forgotten my own name yet, what with how many times I've gotten hit in the head these past few days.

 

One of the workers who didn't laugh, a wood elf named Faendal, came over and asked me if I was okay, since I wasn't moving. Gerdur finally got over her giggles and came over as well, and she had Faendal take me to the inn so that I could have something cold put on my head to ease the pain. Apparently there are no healers in Riverwood, so the innkeeper takes care of everyone when they get hurt. At least it's better than nothing?

 

I was given a frozen bottle of water and told to keep it on my head until the worst pain had stopped and not to sleep until the pain itself stopped. I didn't want to know why I shouldn't sleep, so I didn't ask. Faendal was kind enough to help tie my headscarf in such a way that it would keep the bottle in place so I could have use of both of my hands. Of course, as soon as my hair was revealed, I got bombarded with “you look familiar” and “haven't I seen you around before”. I can still remember the conversation I had with Faendal pretty vividly (Khajiit never forget, you know).

 

Faendal: You look very familiar with your hair down.

Me: Do I?

Faendal: Are you one of those younger girls that comes through with that caravan every so often?

Me: Yeah.

Faendal: Then why are you all alone?

Me: It's a long story.

 

It wasn't too bad after that. Faendal asked where the rest of us were, I replied that I didn't want to talk about it right now, he accepted it and asked if I'd be okay on my own at the inn until lunchtime. I said yes, he left to go back to work, and I put my head down on the table. I both wanted to be left alone and have some sort of company at the same time and it was frustrating. I don't know how to really describe the emotions I'm feeling, all I know is that it's very different from what I usually experience. Normally I'm excited, energetic, and always looking on the bright side of things. Now I'm tired, lethargic, and having a hard time trying to stay positive. After all that's happened, I just want to mope and cling on to somebody like I did when I was little. But who to cling to? There's nobody.

 

Well, at least earlier today there was nobody. Turns out that taking me to the inn and patching me up was far from the last time I get to hang around Faendal.

 

Another man, a Nord named Sven, showed up a few minutes after Faendal left, fuming about something. This must be a regular thing because the innkeeper murmured “oh no not again” and vanished into the room next to the alchemy table. The man behind the counter looked after her with a “why-did-you-leave-me” expression before becoming fascinated with a spot on the counter. And for some reason, this complaining Nord decided that I, the teenage girl who just lost everything and was stranded in a freezing province, would be the perfect conversation partner for this...situation he was in. Which was also really stupid if you ask me.

 

The gist of it was this: Sven the Nord and Faendal the Bosmer were both in love with Camilla the Imperial. Sven says it's ridiculous that Faendal thinks he can win Camilla by just being her friend. Faendal says it's ridiculous that Sven thinks he can win Camilla with just poetry and other bard stuff. I say “why are you asking me, I'm fifteen”. Though I think Sven was too worked up to notice he was ranting at me, and I didn't have the heart to tell him to go away. Sometimes I'm too nice for my own good.

 

Sven had this bright idea to write a letter to Camilla, but say that it was from Faendal. Only it would be “suspicious if he delivered it, so could you please deliver it to her for me? I'll pay you.”

 

I took the letter and told him I'd get it to this Camilla lady as soon as my head stopped hurting. I really, really hope I didn't break it again.

 

Sven thanked me and told me where to find Camilla, then wandered off.

 

I had no intention of delivering the fake letter, of course. It's rude to play with peoples' emotions like that.

 

...well, I did yesterday with Elenwen, but that's different. That was trying to save my own tail since 'Sorja Little-Wish' doesn't carry weight anymore. This is lying about other people for your own...oh, forget it, I'm too tired to try and justify this paragraph in my mind.

 

Anyway, I figured that I might as well get moving since sitting around wasn't doing anything to help me. I re-did my headscarf so that my hair was covered just in case any survivors of that place came stumbling through, held the bottle to my forehead, and staggered back outside. The blacksmith's daughter and Ralof's nephew, Dorthe and Frodnar, were sitting on the porch watching a dog chase a bee, and Frodnar said that he'd “go easy on me” since I was new in town, but that if I got on his bad side, he'd prank me.

 

I highly doubt he's as good at pranking as Gisli, El, and I were. One of our favorite things to do before we discovered the roof of the Blue Palace was go up the stairs of the windmill to the Emperor's Tower and try to knock birds out of the sky (we were kids, we didn't know any better). Usually we'd use rocks or sticks, until one winter I stumbled across a spell book in Roghild's collection and learned how to make fire come out of my hands. I wasn't very good with it, though, and once accidentally set El's hair on fire (whoops). I stuck to the rocks. One day, we actually hit one with a stick. It was stunned, spun out of control, and crash-landed on top of one of the Thalmor sentries. Gisli then got the idea that it would be hilarious if we started trying to throw sticks at the Thalmor instead of at the birds, because, as she always said, “their armor makes them look like birds and they don't move as much”. El suggested that we use eggs instead because it would be funnier. Gisli and I ran back to her house and brought back a small bag of eggs.

 

And that's the story of the day El accidentally hit future High King Torygg in the head with an egg. Gisli always teased El after that, claiming that she did it on purpose because she had a crush on him and I'm going to stop now before I ruin a happy memory.

 

So back to the letter story, which is the best part of my day and did cheer me up considerably since I got a friend out of it.

 

I hobbled my way past the kids, laughing to myself as I remembered the look on Torygg's face when the egg splattered all over him, went to the Riverwood Trader, and told Camilla exactly what was going on with Sven. She didn't believe me at first until I gave her the letter (which was apparently extremely racist and involved the Thalmor or something like that), and then she stormed out of the store looking like she was about to commit a grisly murder. I had been expecting tears, instead I got to see an Imperial turn red. Highlight of my life right there!

 

Her older brother, the shopkeeper, let me borrow a Restoration spell book (as long as I brought it back when I was done with it) that would let me repair whatever damage I did to my skull this morning on my own, since I can't exactly wander around town with a frozen bottle of water being held to my forehead. I found a stump in a nice patch of sunlight behind the inn, where I sat and read the book.

 

I'm not very good with magic. I have some capabilities, since my mother was an apprentice Restoration mage and magical skill usually runs in bloodlines, but it doesn't come as easily to Khajiit as it would to an Altmer or Dunmer (Sigirek knew a lot about these kinds of things since she traveled a lot, and would always answer my questions on the matter). I can learn magic, but it takes much longer and I need to concentrate harder than others. I never really have any use for it, anyway, so I usually don't bother. The amount of concentration needed to cast even a simple spell like a steady stream of weak flames just isn't worth it.

 

I sat there reading that book for about two hours until I figured that I had a decent idea of what I was supposed to do, and then I just idly performed the hand motions while I flipped back through it. I must have been concentrating more on the magic than I thought, because after fifteen minutes of just rotating my wrist in the air like in the pictures, my forehead started to feel very warm. I got startled and dropped the bottle, and then the warmth went away. The pain was gone, though, so it must have worked.

 

I went to go return the book, and that was when the real fun started. Camilla was standing in the middle of the street  _ screaming _ at Sven (don't ask how I didn't notice it earlier) and Faendal was standing at the woodpile next to the forge looking like Saturalia had come early. The blacksmith had stopped hammering mid-swing and was just staring at the scene unfolding in from of him. Sven's mother was standing in her usual spot in front of their house just glaring (yesterday she started yelling about a dragon when Ralof and I came into town and it scared the Oblivion out of me for the millionth time that day). Some of the other people that were wandering around looked unsure about what to do.

 

Then, get this, she  _ slapped  _ him!

 

Poor Sven just stood there looking bewildered while she stormed back into the shop and slammed the door so hard that the building shook. Activity returned to normal (save for Sven standing in the middle of the street looking dumbstruck) almost immediately after, and I made for the door of the shop (I really didn't want to be around for the fallout of  _ that _ ).

 

Of course, Sven noticed me and looked like he was ready to wring my neck. Which I would understand if he didn't totally have that coming. I ducked into the store before he could say anything and silently hoped that he learned his lesson in asking fifteen year old girls for romantic help.

 

I hid in the store for a little while before the coast was cleared and I could venture outside. Maybe I should start keeping a list of people that now want to see my head on a pike? It could certainly be an interesting activity...anyway, now that my forehead was fixed, I needed to find something to do. I ended up helping Sigrid in her garden behind the inn for the rest of the afternoon (where she apologized for laughing at my failure at using an axe) and she gave me two hundred Septims for me help. I don't think I've ever even seen two hundred Septims, let alone had any for myself!

 

Faendal gave me even more as a thank you for “getting rid of Sven” and, better yet, offered to take me to Whiterun tomorrow morning! Just getting to write about this part of the day makes me feel like my old self again, so I'm going to be focusing on that. No more negativity for the rest of the week, alright?

 

\- Zahrassa

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Tirdas, 19 th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

Okay, so maybe the strict “no negativity” thing isn't going to work out. Also, I might be making a career out of being everyone's errand girl. But more on that later, because right now I'm still giddy with delight over the fact that  _ I got to go inside the walls of Whiterun! _

 

Faendal and I left Riverwood extremely early in the morning, well before sunrise, so that we'd be able to see the Jarl before anyone else showed up. I spent the night at his house, but Gerdur gave me some extra supplies to keep, including a backpack, a new book-holder to hook on to my belt (I found a book in “that place” that I wanted to keep, by the way), and an old brown cloak. I tried to pay her for the things, but she wouldn't take the money.

 

I had a hard time getting any sleep last night, so I just sat in front of the fire reading the book I had found. It's called  _ The Book of the Dragonborn _ , an odd coincidence since I found it while running from a dragon. So far its been a very interesting read, especially the whole prophecy about this “Last Dragonborn”. I wonder when he'll come? Or maybe a she! Wouldn't it be cool if the Dragonborn was a woman? Oh, I hope I can meet her (or him) if they show up in my lifetime! Dro'shuji always told me how Khajiit that lived outside of the desert usually live longer than humans, so it could be possible!

 

Wow, I got really carried away there for a second. I'm just really excited because almost everything went very well today. There was some fighting I had to do, but at least this time around I didn't get hit in the head and I figured how to use my small size to an advantage.

 

Anyway, this morning. It was pretty cold out when we left Riverwood. There was a wolf on the road that nearly attacked us, but Faendal shot it dead before it got within a few feet of us. I was pretty impressed that he managed to do that in the dark, and then I got treated to the story of the day he took down a bear at three hundred yards  _ in a blizzard! _ No wonder Camilla was interested in Faendal, he's awesome!

 

We also passed an Imperial patrol, but they left us alone. I wrapped my cloak very tightly around me to hide the Stormcloak armor I was wearing, just in case. Speaking of which, I really need to get rid of it somehow, I don't like looking at it and it doesn't fit me at all. I don't even know if blacksmiths even  _ make _ armor that could fit me, since I'm actually shorter than some of the kids I ran into in Whiterun today. Maybe I should learn how to smith so that I can at least make  _ something _ that will protect me better than just a dress and corset (I don't even know  _ why _ I wear a corset, to be honest, I have absolutely no “assets”, as M'zami called them).

 

There were also some people fighting a giant at a farm just outside of the walls, and the woman that seemed to be their ringleader scolded me for not helping. Well, excuse me for being only four feet tall and smart enough to not provoke the ten-foot monster with a huge club in the first place! One of the men said that I “looked strong” and should come to their mead hall in the city to join their group, “The Companions” or something, but I said no thank you. I'm not strong at all, the only reason I survived “that place” was adrenaline and hiding behind stronger people.

 

The guards outside of the gates tried to stop me from going into the city when I did get there, but I told them that I had information about the dragon and wanted to tell the Jarl. I pulled my “adorable kitten” face that nobody can resist for extra affect, and they let me in right away. Works every time!...well, whenever I'm not with the caravan, at least.

 

All of these years only getting to see the walls, and now I was finally inside. Let me tell you, Whiterun was as every bit as glorious as I thought it would be. Maybe even better!

 

I froze the minute the gates shut behind Faendal and I. There was so much to see and do, every part of me was trying to go in a different direction at once! The first thing I had to do was find the Jarl, but how could I do that when there were so many shops and market stalls crowded into one area, all with a bunch of shiny things to look at? And food, there was so much delicious smelling food flooding the market place that my mouth started watering.

 

I shouldn't have been  _ that _ impressed (I did grow up in Solitude, after all), but I just couldn't help myself. Its just been so long since I got to go inside the walls of a major city that it was a shock. If this is what Whiterun looks like, then I wonder what Solitude looks like now!

 

Faendal shook me out of my daze, and we set off trying to figure out how to get to where the Jarl lived. Nobody was really around since it was still kind of early, so it was just the shopkeepers setting up their stalls for the day and a few people stumbling out of one of the taverns. The blacksmith wasn't doing much and looked friendly enough, so I went and asked her where to find the Jarl. As it turns out, her father is the steward, so she was able to point us right to Dragonsreach. She also asked me to deliver a sword she made to her father and said that there would be some money in it for me, so I said yes.

 

It was a bit scary at Dragonsreach, which I should have expected. You can't exactly go bounding into the Jarl's palace looking like me and not get chased by his housecarl, an angry-looking Dunmer woman named Irileth. And that actually did happen! I went running up the stairs and then boom, there she was, sword out, yelling about needing a summons before I could even think about approaching the Jarl. I had to have Faendal talk us out of that one...

 

Despite that, I actually got to talk to the Jarl! Me, a fifteen-year-old merchant in training that just stumbled in off the street, actually having a conversation with the Jarl of Whiterun! How cool is that?

 

Well, what wasn't cool was the fact that this whole thing with the dragon isn't over. The Jarl asked me to go talk to the court wizard, Farengar, who then asked me to go dive into an old Nord burial crypt to find this “dragonstone” for him. He said that since I survived “that place” unscathed (I didn't bother telling him that my skull got smashed a few times and that I'd probably be dead if it weren't for the fact that a Thalmor healed me), I'd be fine in Bleak Falls Barrow (that's what the old crypt is called, by the way). Forget the fact that I have no experience in exploring dungeons, especially ones that are probably full of undead! Ralof mentioned to me when we were first on our way to Riverwood that it was full of draugr and he used to have nightmares about them coming to get him.

 

But of course, I said yes. I need to keep occupied while I wait for Idhisa to come back for me, and I'll probably get bored just sitting around the city. Might as well make myself useful...though I feel really bad about agreeing to such an adventure without M'zami. She would be head over heels excited about this. I really miss her, I could use her nonstop jabbering right now.

 

I got my money for delivering the sword to the steward and he told me about how Dragonsreach was built to hold a captive dragon. Maybe we could use it to catch the big black dragon someday, then the Jarl could charge everyone a Septim to come see it up close. The kids would love it, and I'm sure that the court wizard would enjoy it even more, since he was bursting with excitement over the return of this dragon (even thought it would probably eat him in one bite if it got close enough).

 

We still had the rest of the day to kill, so Faendal and I went down to the market to look at everything that was for sale. Faendal got talking with the wood elf that was tending the meat stand, and I had flashbacks to when Erisla would take me to the market with her and stand there talking to a friend for hours and hours. Well, what felt like “hours and hours”, I was a little kid with no perception of time, after all. I eventually told Faendal to meet me at the inn, The Bannered Mare, in the evening and wandered off on my own.

 

It was a bit frightening walking through the market on my own, being as small as I am. People don't always see me in their path and will knock me right over without noticing. It was a real problem when I was younger, I couldn't let go of Erisla or Sigirek's hand without someone nearly stepping on me. They always told me that I was just a “runt” and would get taller when I'm older, so there's still hope that I can at least get to five feet before I turn twenty.

 

It was later this evening when things got really interesting. While I was looking at the produce that one woman was selling, we got to talking. It started when the woman asked how old I was and where my parents were, since she didn't recognize me and “I seemed a little young to be wandering around on my own”. I told her that I'm actually fifteen and that I was visiting the city with a family friend for a while (a lie, I know, but it made more sense than “I don't know if my parents are alive or not, I got separated from the people who have been caring for me and they are in Cyrodiil, I nearly got my head chopped off by the Imperials a few days ago, and now I'm running around with a male wood elf who I just met because I don't have anything else to do, also there's a giant dragon flying around and I'm a little traumatized by that so please stop asking questions”). Our conversation carried on from there, and I learned a few things about her. Her name is Carlotta Valentina, she has a daughter named Mila who is six years younger than me, and men give her a lot of attention that she doesn't want. The one who gives her the most problems is this bard named Mikael, who works at the Bannered Mare. For some reason I offered to talk to him for her, and Carlotta laughed (what can a fifteen-year-old do?), but she said that if I wanted to try, go right ahead.

 

I spent some more time milling about in the market and visited the general store to see what was fore sale, too. The shopkeeper was this creepy Breton man, but he sold me some hide laces and a large brown satchel for a discount because I was “cute” (what a creep). I figured that I could use the hide laces to string up my armor so that it would fit better until I could get something that was actually my size. A set of Elven armor would be the best, because, according to Sigirek, it has magical properties. The most obvious one is that it will mold to the size of whoever wears it, hence why it would be best for me. I could buy any size and it would fit my small frame, and if I do grow at all, it will mold to that as well. It never needs to be replaced! Shame that it's often associated with the Thalmor...

 

When I was done shopping, I went to the inn for the night to wait for Faendal, and that was when I had my encounter with the bard. And boy was that interesting...

 

&%&%&%&

 

All was quiet in the main room of the inn, save for the few conversations that were being held between the small amount of patrons that were there. The only person who looked up was the elderly Nord woman behind the counter, who nodded at Zahrassa as she cautiously came closer.

 

“I don't think I've seen you around before,” The Nord woman said as she wiped a tankard clean.

 

“I'm just visiting for a while,” Zahrassa answered as she pulled herself up into the bar seat.

 

“You look a little young to be here all on your own,” the Nord observed as she set the clean tankard down and rested her arms on the counter.

 

“I'm fifteen. I'm just small for my age,” Zahrassa huffed, trying to make herself look bigger by puffing out her chest and sitting up as straight as she could. “And I'm not alone. I've been traveling with a family friend.”

 

“If you say so,” the woman said with a small grin. “Can I get you anything?”

 

“Just some water, please,” Zahrassa answered, taking a few fast glances out of the corner of her eyes. She pulled on her headscarf a few times to make it sure it was still covering her hair while the woman turned around to pour some water out for Zahrassa. She quickly dropped her hands when the Nord turned around and gave her the tankard of water. “Thank you.”

 

“I'm surprised that you didn't ask for mead.”

 

“I'm too young,” Zahrassa said after taking a drink of her water.

 

“That hasn't stopped kids younger than you from drinking.”

 

“Alcohol doesn't sit well with Khajiit my age. It makes us very ill.” Zahrassa explained, regurgitating information that Sigirek had told her many years ago when she had gotten curious about her people. “If I were twenty it would be safer.”

 

“Oh, I see.” The woman continued to wipe the counter and dirty tankards, silence falling in the inn once again.

 

It was an hour or so later when people finally started filing into the inn for the evening. Zahrassa slipped out of her seat and began looking for the bard so that she could talk to him about Carlotta. Spotting a blond man with a lute resting at his feet in a darkened corner, she meandered over, sitting down in the empty seat next to him.

 

“Are you Mikael?” She asked innocently, intertwining her fingers together.

 

“That I am, lass.” Mikael answered, looking up from his drink and nearly double-taking when he laid eyes on Zahrassa. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure. “I apologize for that, I did not expect a Khajiit to sound as elegant as you do.”

 

Zahrassa felt her heart flutter; a real man complimenting _her_! Usually it was just M'zami who got the attention from men, while Zahrassa was viewed as little more than a small child that followed her around. Maybe the corset worked after all?

 

“Why thank you. It took a lot of practice.” She answered, flushing a little while remembering her task. She didn't exactly expect that Mikael would flirt with her since she looked so much like a child, but it _was_ dark in the corner. Maybe he just couldn't see and would backpedal the minute he saw what she looked like.

 

“It appears so,” he said, leaning a little closer to Zahrassa. “So, is there something you wanted?”

 

“Yes, I wanted to talk about Carlotta Valentina. She wants you leave her alone.” Mikael leaned back in his chair, scowling.

 

“I assume that you're just jealous. You want her for yourself, don't you? Well, I'm sorry, but that fiery widow is mine. She just doesn't know it yet.”

 

_Wow, that didn't take long..._ Zahrassa thought to herself, sitting up a little straighter. “She wants nothing to do with you.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, so leave her alone. Or else.”

 

“'Or else' what?” Mikael asked quietly, standing up. Zahrassa gulped; she hadn't actually thought that one through...

 

“Or else...I'll...I'll fight you.” Zahrassa stuttered out, also standing up. The light was now cast better on her, and Mikael almost started to laugh.

 

“You? I don't know, stranger, you don't exactly look like a fighter!” He laughed. Some of the other patrons turned to look at the confrontation that was about to happen between the two. Zahrassa didn't exactly want an audience and was seriously considering backing down, but she _did_ want to help Carlotta. Plus, this Mikael looked and sounded like a difficult piece of work, and that just wouldn't do.

 

“You want to test that?” She snarled, raising her tiny fists.

 

“Fine. You're on.” He cried, also raising his fists and taking a swing at Zahrassa. She let out a startled squeak and ducked out of the way just in time.

 

_Why don't I think things like this through?! Why?!_ She thought as she ducked another blow. Without thinking, she shut her eyes and struck out at whatever happened to be in front of her.

 

“By the Divines!” Mikael gasped, doubling over as Zahrassa opened her eyes. He was leaning over heavily, clutching his...

 

_Huh, so M'zami WAS right, it does hurt them..._ Zahrassa brought her left foot around in a swift kick that made contact with the side of Mikael's leg, and with that, he was down. She turned her head to glance at the patrons that were watching, and two men exchanged a small amount of gold with each other. Zahrassa looked back down at her opponent, lowering her fists.

 

“Will you leave her alone now?” She asked quietly.

 

“Yes, on my honor, I'll leave her alone!” Mikael gasped, still in pain from Zahrassa's harsh punch to the groin.

 

“Good. See you around, I guess,” she said, turning away from the writhing Nord and walking into the parting crowd. She found Faendal sitting by the fire, staring at her as if she had grown an extra tail. “What?”

 

“I...did not expect that.” Faendal answered, shaking his head a little to get rid of his shocked expression.

 

“I didn't, either.” Zahrassa shrugged, sitting down next to him.

 

“How did you do that?”

 

“I don't think you want to know,” she answered, staring into the flames and crossing her arms.

 

&%&%&%&

 

So there you go. I just won my first fistfight with a man twice my size by punching him in the...you get the idea.

 

Faendal and I have a long day ahead of us tomorrow, so I'm going to stop writing soon. I need energy for going through Bleak Falls Barrow. Winning that fight with Mikael has given me a little bit of confidence. As long a draugr still have the right...things...I should be just fine!

 

\- Zahrassa

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Middas, 20 th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

Let it be known that I, wimp extraordinaire, survived the crawl through Bleak Falls Barrow! Crazy, right? Well, I wouldn't have been able to do it without Faendal. There were some bandits camped out in front of the Barrow and I accidentally made enough noise that they knew where we were, so I turned and ran away. This lead them right into range for Faendal to shoot them with a bow and arrow. They never knew what hit them!

 

I ended up taking some of the armor that they had been wearing before Faendal killed them all. I dropped the Stormcloak armor I have been wearing right in the middle of their tiny camp and put on the fur armor I looted from the ringleader. It was far too big for me, but it was the only one I could take because the other bandits were wearing armor that provided almost no protection against other people or the weather. No wonder they're bandits, they aren't smart enough to realize that a fur loincloth will not protect you from anyone coming after them! Meanwhile, the leader, a giant, burly Nord, was wearing fur armor that covered everything, so of course I went for that. Faendal helped me use the laces I bought yesterday to tighten it up enough that it would be a more reasonable fit. I look really silly now, but as long as it keeps me safe, I don't care.

 

I really should invest in a shirt and a pair of pants, though. It isn't exactly easy running around wearing armor over a dress, y'know.

 

We did have a very interesting encounter inside of the barrow, too. Remember last week, when the owner of the store in Riverwood was arguing with his sister about something being stolen and how they were going to get it back? Well, guess who and what Faendal and I found in there?

 

The thief who stole it, and the thing in the first place! It was this golden dragon claw-like object, and the thief said that it would unlock something that was extremely valuable.

 

We didn't exactly get the chance to ask him what exactly was locked away, because once we freed him from a Frostbite spider web, he tried to run away but stumbled into a trap that released a spiked door. It was pretty gruesome, to be honest.

 

Faendal got rid of the Draugr that were in the room the thief got knocked into and I went through his stuff, taking the golden claw and his journal. I let Faendal play around with the claw while I read the journal. It said something about the clue to unlocking the valuables being in the palm of our hands when we held the claw, which took me a while to understand...

 

&%&%&%&

 

“What is that...thing?” Zahrassa asked as she and Faendal came to a stop in front of a hallway that contained several swinging blades.

 

“A swinging blade trap. Very deadly.” Faendal observed.

 

“How do we get through it?”

 

“Very carefully.”

 

“Now is not the time.” Zahrassa muttered, rolling her eyes.

 

“If I remember correctly, there's usually some sort of lever or chain that makes them stop swinging on the other side.”

 

Zahrassa placed a hand to her chin and rubbed it, thinking. “Too dangerous to try to run through?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“What about crawling through?” She asked, slipping her backpack off and letting it land on the ground with a soft _thud._ Faendal gave her a quizzical look, cocking an eyebrow. “I mean, I think I'm small enough.”

 

“You just might be.”

 

“Well, then that's what I'll do.” Zahrassa stated, dropping her satchel on the ground and undoing the clasp that held her burlap cloak to her throat. With that, she got on her knees. “There's health potions in the satchel. Have them ready in case I get cut.”

 

“Be careful, kid,” Faendal said, picking up the satchel as Zahrassa laid down on her stomach and began to inch forward. Her ears were completely flat against her head and she wriggled forward, trying not to flinch every time she felt the wind caused by one of the blades swinging less than in inch from her neck.

 

_Don't think about it...don't think about it..._ She screamed in her head, almost feeling the heat of the dragon's breath on her face as she slid along the cold, hard ground. She flattened her cheek even harder against the ground as she started to hear falling rocks off in the distance. “Am I almost through?”

 

“You're almost there!” Faendal yelled back. Zahrassa squeezed her eyes shut and dug her claws into the cool rock as if it would root her back in reality, carefully starting to inch forwards once more. It was taking every fiber of her being to not launch forward and run away screaming as if the dragon was looming right over her once again.

 

_Almost...there..._ she thought, twisting her neck in such a way so that she could see where the trap ended. As she righted it and began to crawl forwards, she felt the wind of a swinging blade pass right over her neck, and she let out a strangled cry. On the verge of panic and once again hearing the falling rocks, she began to scramble forward as fast as she could, ignoring a sudden sharp pain in her shoulder and feeling the wind pass over her tail as she staggered to her feet and threw herself at the chain. With a loud noise, the blades stopped swinging, and Zahrassa leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. “Got it!”

 

“Thank the Divines...” Faendal sighed as he came through the now-safe corridor. He knelt down next to Zahrassa, who had slumped against the wall and was breathing heavily, gently pouring a small amount of a health potion on her gashed shoulder.

 

“Didn't notice that it got me...” She said wearily, watching the wound seal itself shut as the red liquid of the potion mixed with her blood.

 

“You started writhing on the ground after one of the blades passed close to your neck and tried to get up. I got worried that it had cut you there-”

 

“Stop. Stop talking.” Zahrassa demanded, flattening her ears against her head as if it would shut Faendal's voice out.

 

&%&%&%&

 

I felt bad for snapping at Faendal like that, but I couldn't stop myself. Ever since that place, I've been extremely protective of my neck. I don't like hearing blades swing through the air, I don't like things touching my neck, I can't sleep properly, and I can't talk about anything relating to That Place without my stomach knotting itself up. Even writing this down is giving me a stomachache! I know I'm terribly wimpy, save for when I have a size advantage and can reach places where it hurts to be hit, but this is just a whole new level of pathetic. I need to sleep for, like, a week straight to feel better. I'm sure I'd be fine if M'zami were around, she'd be joking about it so much that it would twist itself into something hilarious. I can't do that on my own, just sit there and try to forget all that happened.

 

That wasn't the only swinging trap that we had to go through, either. Faendal and I came across a second one, and we tried jamming it with the bodies of draugr and everything else that was laying around and movable. It worked for just long enough for me to scramble through and pull the lever that shut it off, which I was pretty glad for.

 

I'm never fantasizing about going into those old Nord tombs again! They're just too weird, especially with what Faendal and I found when we finally reached the Dragonstone Farengar asked for.

 

&%&%&%&

 

“Would you look at that!” Faendal said as the duo walked into a hallway with extremely detailed carvings on the wall and a large, circular...thing at the end of the hallway.

 

“It's pretty,” Zahrassa said in wonder as she looked at the carvings on the wall, “but how do we get through? I think it's a dead end.”

 

“Unless this thing is some sort of door.” Faendal stated, knocking on the circular carvings at the end of the hallway. Zahrassa came to his side to also look at it, noting the four rings. The three outer rings had a single, small carving of some sort of animal at their highest point, and the fourth ring had three small holes on the upper part and a image of some kind of claw in the centre. Zahrassa idly placed one hand on the second inner-most ring and let her weight rest on it as she studied the circle in the middle. Suddenly, she felt the ring move.

 

“Woah, woah, woah, what in _Oblivion...?_ ” She gasped, withdrawing her hand as if it had been burned and stumbling away from the wall. The ring groaned as it spun around, the carving on top moving away and being replaced with a carving of a different animal.

 

“It's a puzzle!” Faendal declared.

 

“Oh, great, more puzzles...” Zahrassa sighed, flashing back to the spinning pillars that the two had spent a half hour, possibly longer, trying to figure out back when they first entered Bleak Falls Barrow. Faendal pressed on another ring, and the carving on top was also replaced with a different one.

 

“Maybe we need them to all match?”

 

“That might work.” Zahrassa shrugged, jumping up and slapping the outermost ring so that it shifted as well. They worked together to get all of the rings moved so that the symbols were all the same, and then Zahrassa pushed against the big circle in the middle.

 

Nothing happened.

 

“Maybe you didn't push hard enough? Here, let me try,” Faendal offered, shoving his hands against the circle as hard as he could. When nothing happened again, the two stood there staring at it in confusion.

 

“Maybe it wasn't the right combination?”

 

The sounds of stone scraping against stone filled the wide hallway once more as the rings shifted to match one set of animals, and then another. The two even tried different combinations, but the central circle still refused to budge, even when they threw their combined weight at it.

 

_“Kador?!”_ Zahrassa snapped, angrily kicking the circle. _“Kador, Khenthari?!”_

 

“Maybe there's some sort of key around here...” Faendal muttered, kicking a pile of rocks out of the way. “I'll look over here, you look over there.”

 

Zahrassa knelt down, feeling along the cold, damp ground that probably hadn't been touched in centuries, her mind reeling. She dug her tiny claws into the small cracked in the stone, felt along the wall, and shoved loose rocks aside in search of anything that looked remotely like a key. “Didn't that thief guy say something about a 'Hall of Stories'?”

 

“...now that you mention it, yes, he did.”

 

Zahrassa straightened up and wiped her gloves on the front of her armor, then pulled the thief's journal out of her backpack. Widening her pupils so she could see the jagged writing better in the dark, she reviewed one of the paragraphs over and over in her head until something finally clicked.

 

“The claw!” She gasped, standing up as soon as the realization hit. “They claw is the key! Here, let me see it!”

 

Faendal handed the golden dragon claw to Zahrassa, who took it up to the center circle, lined the claws up with the three small holes, and jammed it in. Again, nothing happened, so she tried jamming it in even harder, even twisting it a few times. There was a loud groaning noise as she pulled the claw out, and for a minute, it looked like the strange door was about to open.

 

“Watch out!” Faendal yelled, grabbing Zahrassa by the scruff of her neck and dragging her backwards as a row of spikes suddenly jutted out from the ceiling. Almost as soon as they had appeared, they vanished back inside of the tiny holes that neither of the duo had noticed before.

 

“...wrong combination?” Zahrassa suggested once they had finally caught their breath from the shock. Faendal let go of the back of her neck and smacked himself in the face, letting his hand rest that way for several seconds. Zahrassa idly turned the claw in her hands, suddenly noticing carving on the palm of the claw that looked similar to the ones on the door. “I think I found the combination.”

 

“If it doesn't work this time, we're leaving.” Faendal muttered as he helped Zahrassa move the outer rings so that they matched the order of the animal carvings that had been etched into the claw.

 

“I'll agree with you on that.” She huffed before realigning the claws with the small holes. “Cross your fingers.”

 

With a silent prayer, Zahrassa pushed the claw into the circle and twisted it. The claw immediately sprang back out and Zahrassa jumped backwards to avoid any potential spikes that would come jutting out of the ceiling. Instead, the stone rings groaned and spun around rapidly until all of the small animal carvings matched each other. Stone scraped against stone as the door slowly began to lower into the ground, revealing a dark staircase that had been hidden behind it for centuries.

 

“It worked! It worked!” Zahrassa cheered, turning and hugging Faendal before sprinting up the stairs.

 

“Be careful!” Faendal called after her as she ran up, skittering to a stop when she reached a large platform that overlooked a wide, brightly lit cavern.

 

“Woah...” she said, in complete awe as she craned her neck to look around as much as she could. There was a small, steady stream of water running along the bottom, with a large, curved wall with strange markings at the other side.

 

“The Dragonstone has to be in here,” Faendal mused as he arrived at Zahrassa's shoulder, joining her in her awestruck staring.

 

“Lets look near that wall,” she said, pointing at the curved wall with the strange markings. “That looks like a place someone would put something on display.”

 

Something strange began to happen as they approached the curved wall. Some of the carvings, which Faendal said were probably runes, began to glow, and there was faint hum in the air. The closer Zahrassa got, the louder and more defined the humming became, until it was full on chanting in a strange language.

 

“Do you here that?” She asked, coming to a stop in front of a sealed coffin and staring at the now-brightly glowing carvings.

 

“...no?” Faendal said after listening for a few minutes.

 

“I can hear this strange...chanting coming from that wall,” Zahrassa exclaimed, pointing, “and one of those runes is glowing.”

 

“I think you're just tired,” Faendal explained.

 

“Maybe you're right.” Zahrassa shrugged, but something just didn't quite feel right. A strange darkness started creeping from the corners of her eyes and she jumped over the coffin, and the glowing rune seemed to be stretching out as if it was about to rope her in and suck her into the wall. The chanting was almost deafening as she finally stood in the middle of the curve, the glowing words floating right in front of her field of vision and blocking everything else out.

 

_Fus._

 

A sudden crash came from behind Zahrassa as she whirled around, the chanting and glowing stopped almost as soon as it started. A huge, armored draugr rose out of the once-sealed coffin, giving Zahrassa and Faendal barely enough time to ready their weapons. An arrow began to sail right at its sunken face, when...

 

_“FUS...RO DAH!!”_

 

Zahrassa felt the wind get knocked right out of her lungs as her back hit the wall when the blast of energy picked her and Faendal off of the floor and threw them backwards. Gasping, she slid down the wall and barely managed to stay on her feet, the arrow Faendal had fired embedding itself into the wall right next to her head.

 

“What in Oblivion was that?!” She wheezed as she oriented herself, getting a firm grip on her sword and staring down the draugr that Faendal had somehow managed to shoot full of arrows without even correcting his stance.

 

“I don't know!” Faendal yelled as the draugr turned its attention back to Zahrassa.

 

_“FU-”_

 

“Oh no you don't!” Zahrassa gasped, grazing its head with her own arrow. “Damn, I missed!”

 

“You'll learn!” Faendal cried, circling around and hitting the dragur in the back with an arrow. The decomposing being grunted and turned, raising its sword at the Bosmer and shaking it angrily like an old man would shake their cane. Zahrassa tried another arrow and it stuck into one of the horns of its helmet. It turned again, starting to lumber towards the Khajiit when another arrow stuck into its shoulder. When it turned, Zahrassa got an idea.

 

“Keep it turning around!” She yelled, one of her own arrows grazing its side and forcing it to turn around once more. “It'll be too confused!”

 

The volley of arrows was exchanged, each one sticking itself into the draugr's armor and confusing it more and more as it kept turning, trying to focus on a single target but getting nowhere. Zahrassa soon ran out or arrows and the draugr finally had its focus on Faendal, who kept firing off as Zahrassa pulled out her sword and dagger. Ignoring the stench of the beast and the little voice in her head that told her to run _away_ from the rotting Nord monster, not _towards_ it, Zahrassa bolted forwards. Iron sword in her right hand and steel dagger in her left, she took a flying jump and plunged both weapons into a small gap in the creature's armor. The dagger embedded in its flesh, the draugr made a strangled cry and tried to turn around.

 

Zahrassa, using her grip and small size to her advantage once more, grappled on the back of the monster as it tried to find who had just stabbed it in the back. Faendal lowered his aim with his bow and arrow so that he would avoid accidentally shooting Zahrassa and started shooting at the back of its legs while Zahrassa climbed her way up its body and forced her claws out the fingertips of her fur gloves. With one quick, fluid motion, she reached her right arm around its and raked her claws across its throat, using her left hand to shove the back of its head in the opposite direction. Thick, black blood that had not moved in thousands of years coated her claws as she snapped its brittle neck and sent it flying to the floor, killed instantly. The sound its body made as it landed echoed through the room as Zahrassa climbed off, wiping her claws on the front of her armor and shaking her head to try and avoid thinking about just how gross the old blood was.

 

“Ew, ew, ew, ew!” She whined, flapping her arms when the wiping proved useless. “ _EW!_ ”

 

“That was impressive,” Faendal said as he put his bow on his back and rooted around in his backpack for a cloth. Zahrassa was still flailing as whining when he soaked it with a bottle of water and struggled to hand it to her without accidentally getting scratched with her bloody claws. “Here, here, calm down! It'll wash off!”

 

“I may have crawled on thousand-year-old moss earlier but that was just _disgusting!_ ” She wailed as she snatched the cloth out of Faendal's hands and started scrubbing furiously. “Fresh blood is one thing, thousand-year-old old draugr blood like that is just... _ew!_ ”

 

“Glad to know you have standards in what blood can get all over you or not,” Faendal said, rolling his eyes and bending over the fully dead draugr.

 

“Well, I am a girl, aren't I? I'd be used to bl-”

 

“We are _not_ discussing that!” Faendal gasped, turning bright red and becoming extremely interested in the rusted iron helmet that the creature had been wearing prior to Zahrassa's brutal assault on its neck.

 

“I'm just kidding. I'm too young.”

 

“Good to know.” Faendal muttered, refusing to look up. Zahrassa giggled, dropping the cloth next to him.

 

“Thanks, by the way. Now lets find that damn rock,” she said, turning and peeking into the coffin. There was a lot of jewelry and some kind of power inside, which she recognized from some of the alchemy merchandise Idhisa sold and hid from Dro'shuji. “Hey, gimme that empty bottle, I found some good stuff.”

 

Faendal handed Zahrassa the empty water bottle, then rubbed his hands together and started to peel the aging armor off of the draugr. Zahrassa started funneling some of the bone meal in the bottom of the coffin into the bottle, trying to figure out how much it would be worth. Each scoop with her hands took her farther and farther into the depths of the coffin, when she felt her hand strike something hard and smooth.

 

“Hey, I found something!” She yelled, setting the bottle of bone meal aside and leaning in to push the remaining amounts out of the way. The moved bone meal soon revealed a large, flat stone with several seemingly disjointed markings covering the top. Flipping it over revealed a small carving of a dragon on the the back. “It's the dragonstone the court wizard wanted!”

 

“Finally!” Faendal cried wearily, getting up to help Zahrassa drag it out of the coffin. It was a lot heavier that it looked and took a lot of teamwork to get it up and out of the coffin. After a while, they finally had it on the floor and were trying to figure out how to carry it. Eventually, they concluded that they could make a makeshift net out of Zahrassa's extra hide laces, then tie it to her back. It took even longer to manage that, and once it was secured behind her backpack, they began their journey out of the barrow, completely exhausted but alive and in one piece.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Turdas, 21 st of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

I fell asleep while Faendal and I were walking back to Riverwood after we crawled out of Bleak Falls Barrow with the golden dragon claw and Dragonstone in tow. The exhaustion hit the minute the night air had slapped me in the face, and I blacked out just before we reached the bridge into the village. I woke up curled up in front of the fire in Faendal's house and he told me that I just laid down in the middle of the path and went to sleep without a word. He carried me back to his house and set me in front of the fire so I would be warm before he also went to bed. I was so exhausted from all of the running, climbing, and fighting that I had to do yesterday that I actually slept through the night. For the first time this week, I didn't have any bouts of restlessness or any nightmares (though the first thing I saw when I woke up was the low flames in the fireplace and I panicked a little bit). Instead I had a really weird dream about a golden dragon that couldn't breathe fire, only sneeze it.

 

I'd rather that than big black dragons and swinging blades, even if it is weird.

 

I still woke up pretty early (and the momentary panic wouldn't let me go back to sleep), so I went and sat out on the porch until Faendal woke up. I don't remember writing in here last night, but it looks like I did. The handwriting is worse than usual and there are a lot of misspelled words, to the point where I'm pretty sure if my old tutor in Solitude saw it, she would implode.

 

Once Faendal finally got out of bed, we went to deliver the golden dragon claw to Camilla and her brother, Lucan, at the general store. Camilla was so happy that she kissed Faendal on the cheek and he turned about as red as my hair (I thought about teasing him about it but didn't; he already puts up with so much from me and we've only officially known each other for a few days). He stayed red the entire time we were there, and Camilla was gushing about how “nice it was of him to take a kid on a bunch of adventures” (thought it was really more like me clinging to the friendliest looking person in town and dragging them along with me, and he just happened to be the friendliest looking person). I just bought some more hide laces so that my armor could be strung up even more and let them be.

 

When we were done at the store, we went back to Whiterun to give Farengar the Dragonstone. It was only about a two hour walk, so it was still morning by the time we got there. There were these two little girls playing tag just inside of the gates and they started laughing at how silly I looked wearing armor that was five times my size and tied to my body with a bunch of hide laces, but they ran off before I could say anything. Little shits.

 

There was also this Redguard man in the marketplace who told me I looked like a bandit, but he was easier to deal with. I just stopped, turned to face him, and asked him if insulting orphan children gave him joy. That shut him up really fast and Faendal laughed at him as he grumbled and walked away.

 

Things once again got weird and interesting after we dropped off the Dragonstone. You're not going to believe a single word of what I'm going to say, but I swear on my grandmother's ashes that it's completely true.

 

&%&%&%&

 

_Why do I always get into these situations?_ Zahrassa thought to herself, leaning heavily against the inner wall of the Western Watchtower as the roars of a dragon got closer and closer. Almost as soon as she had hefted the stone onto Farengar's desk, Irileth came running in telling Zahrassa that she needed to follow her immediately. Now, less than fifteen minutes later and completely out of breath from sprinting so fast, Zahrassa found herself once again about to stare down a dragon.

 

“Be sure to make every arrow count!” Irileth yelled as the green dragon reared up over the mountain peaks and shot towards the tower. Zahrassa staggered as it landed on top, making the building shudder violently while it screamed fire down onto the guards that were unlucky enough to be outside.

 

As soon as it had landed it took off, the tower shuddering once more. Zahrassa went back to her place leaning against the stone wall, chest heaving as her breaths came into her small lungs, loud, shallow, and panicked. The sound of flaming rock hitting the ground rang in her ears and her face warmed, leaving her unable to distinguish if it was actually happening or not. A hand grabbed her shoulder and she almost screamed.

 

“Don't just stand there!”

 

The person who had grabbed her shoulder was a guard, shaking her as if it would bring her back to reality. The heat left her face as she turned to face him, the sound of falling rock being replaced by the dragon yelling and arrows swishing through the air. The tower shuddered once more as the dragon landed and started breathing fire in all directions.

 

“Sorry, I'm just-”

 

“Stop talking and move it!” The guard yelled, shoving the Khajiit towards the spiral staircase. “Go stand in a window and shoot it when you see it!”

 

“Y-yes sir!” Zahrassa stammered as she began to climb the stairs, her legs shaking more and more with every step. _I'm not cut out for this. I'm not cut out for this._

 

There was a resounding explosion on the ground as the dragon landed next to the tower, leaning down and snapping a guard into its wide jaws. Zahrassa arrived at a small hole in the wall near the top of the tower just in time to see the poor guard tossed high into the air and swallowed in one bite. With that, the dragon turned its humongous neck and looked right at Zahrassa.

 

Instead of breaking down in terror, the adrenaline kicked into overdrive. The dragon began snapping at another guard that had run at it with a greatsword, backing away just before he, too, could be eaten by the beast.

 

“Die, dragon!” The brave guard screamed, about to lunge forward when a rock fell from seemingly nowhere and landed on the dragon's head. The dragon shrieked and turned to look at the window near the top of the tower, where Zahrassa was standing with hands resting on each side and fire in her eyes.

 

“Hey ugly!” She screamed, throwing another rock, this one hitting the dragon right between its nostrils. “Why don't you pick on someone your own size?”

 

“ You are brave _. Balaan hokoron.  _ Your defeat brings me honor.” The dragon said in a deep, rumbling voice.

 

“If you can catch me, first!” Zahrassa yelled back, cupping her hands around the sides of her mouth. She was feeling almost light-headed as she jumped back front the window and moved a few steps down just in time to avoid the dragon trying to stick its head through the window. Zahrassa took out the iron sword she had plucked off of a bandit at the barrow the day before as the dragon moved its head back and tried to ram it through the window a second time.

 

“ _ Brit grah _ . I had forgotten what fine sport you mortals can provide!” The dragon called as it tried to wedge its head inside a third time. “I shall-”

 

Its long, evil tongue poked out of its mouth as it began to speak once more, and Zahrassa, with adrenaline pounding through her system and the panic attempting to rear its ugly head at the sound of the dragon's voice, delivered a savage strike.

 

_ “NIID!!” _ It screamed as its tongue split open, blood flying everywhere as it moved its head from the window and tried to fly off.

 

“Still a fine sport?” Zahrassa yelled over her shoulder as she sheathed the sword and ran up to the top of the tower, pulling her bow off of her back and notching an iron arrow into the string. The sunlight was almost blinding as she came to a stop and spun around, trying to get the dragon back in her sights.

 

“Watch out!” A guard behind her yelled, forcing them both to the ground as the dragon reappeared and swept directly over them. The guard rolled off of Zahrassa and onto his back, firing off an arrow in the dragon's general direction. Zahrassa hopped back to her feet and re-notched her own arrow, spinning rapidly to find the dragon once more. It reappeared again and began to hover over the tower, getting ready to breathe fire on top of them. Thinking fast, Zahrassa sent the arrow flying directly into its belly while the guard, behind her once more, aimed for the face.

 

The dragon continued to scream as it was assaulted with arrows from all directions. It shook its head and clutched onto the edge of the roof of the tower, violently snapping its jaws in an attempt to grab Zahrassa and the guard. They backed away as much as they could while the monster extended its neck further and further, finally blowing fire on the guard in frustration. The guard screamed, dropped to the ground, and rolled away, leaving Zahrassa alone to face the dragon.

 

Without thinking, Zahrassa pulled her sword back out and drove it as far as she could into the dragon's nostrils. The dragon screamed even louder than before and bucked its head, sending Zahrassa flying over her sword and landing on its neck. It began to take off, and, now officially panicking, Zahrassa took out her dagger and climbed higher onto its head by stabbing it into the gaps between its scales and digging her claws in as hard as she could. As the top of the tower started to shrink awake, she squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could and held on to one of the spikes coming off of the dragon's head as hard as she could.

 

She dared to take one hand off of its spike to yank her headscarf off of her head, entwining around her other wrist and flinging the fabric around the spike. Her eyes peeked open just a crack so that she could wrap the other end around the wrist firmly clinging to the spike without seeing how far off the ground she must have been. Now at least somewhat tied to the dragon, she pulled her dagger out of the gap in the scales she had shoved it into and held it between her teeth as she tried to re-orient herself so that she was considerably closer to the dragon's eye.

 

Now effectively grappling with the screaming, spinning dragon, she squeezed her eyes shut once more, took the dagger out of her mouth, and inched her way towards the eye. Her eyes flew open for a fraction of a second just to confirm where she was, and then they shut once more. She raised the iron dagger over head once more, and...

 

_ “NIID!! NIID!!” _ The dragon screamed once more as Zahrassa felt her arm and front side get covered with a warm liquid. She continued to stab at its eye wildly, no longer aware of her surroundings. The adrenaline had forced her to focus on this, and this only. Her eyes opened once more as she let go of the spike and began to claw her way to the other side of the dragon's head, headscarf still wrapped tightly around her wrist.

 

The dragon began to lean to one side as it began to come in for a landing, making Zahrassa slide down the top of its head and land on the other spike. With the ground fast approaching, Zahrassa dug the claws of her right hand into the dark green scales and leaned left, raising the dagger above her head once more. She closed her eyes just before she plunged it into the other eye, the warm liquid splattering her face and strands of hair coming out of her loose braid. The dragon raised its head once more and Zahrassa hung on for dear life, forcing her eyes open as the dragon climbed higher into the sky before it suddenly dipped forward and began to plummet towards the ground.

 

_ “DOVAHKIIN, NIID!!!!” _ The dragon screamed as Zahrassa scrambled onto its neck, trying to pull on its scales as if it would enable her to steer the falling, dying creature. She righted herself as the dragon lifted its head once more, keeping a frightening focus on the space between its head spikes as she rode the dragon through the fall. The ground came closer and closer, and she hung on and pressed her face into the hard dragon scales. The violent jolt caused by the dragon crash-landing into the ground nearly threw her off as a spray of dirt covered her and stuck. She didn't lift her head and fully open her eyes until it had finally come to a stop right in front of the Western Watchtower, right where the fight had started what felt like forever ago.

 

“By the gods...!” A surviving guard gasped as Zahrassa, covered in dirt, the blood, and the gore of the dragon, slid off of its neck and staggered towards the small crowd of survivors that began to gather near the corpse. Irileth pushed her way to the front of the small crowd and beamed at Zahrassa, who had unwrapped her wrist and draped the headscarf over her thin shoulders.

 

“Please don't make me do this again,” she sighed, turning to face the dead dragon and wiping a small hunk of dragon flesh off of her ear. “And I need a new sword.”

 

“Did you break it?” A guard asked.

 

“No, I jammed it up the son of a bitch's nose and I really don't want to touch it again.” Zahrassa said flatly, crossing her arms. The guards behind her let out a loud guffaw.

 

Their peace was short lived, however. The exact moment the guards started laughing, the dragon's corpse erupted into flames, the flesh and scales starting to drop off of the bones and disintegrate into nothingness. Irileth grabbed Zahrassa and dragged her backwards as beams of bright light came jutting out of the flames, which had suddenly begun to dwindle. The light swirled around the dead dragon as the flames finally died, revealing nothing but a yellowish skeleton behind. More colors seeped out of the bones and joined the white light as a sudden light wind picked up. When the colors, oranges, purples, and yellows, fully joined the white, it stopped swirling around the dragon and began to extend long arms of light. One of the arms of light touched Zahrassa lightly on the chest, and then the rest came rushing after until it was swirling all around it, the wind picking up strength and blowing most of Zahrassa's braid undone as she looked at her hands.

 

“By the gods, could it really be...?” Another guard gasped as the light fully enveloped Zahrassa before vanishing into thin air. Zahrassa clenched her hands into fists, feeling stronger than she had that morning and any of the weakness she felt after sliding off of the dragon vanishing with the light.

 

“What...what just happened?” She asked, turning around to look at the guards.

 

“Just like the old legends...” Another guard murmured. “You must be Dragonborn!”

 

“...excuse me?” Zahrassa asked, confused. Some of the things she had read in  _ The Book of the Dragonborn _ just a few days ago came back to the forefront of her memory. The other living guards began to murmur among themselves, and one, a short woman, finally stepped forward.

 

“A mortal born with the soul of a dragon. You can absorb their souls and their power by killing them. It's the only permanent way to kill a dragon!”

 

Zahrassa mind began to reel.  _ I'm the only person who can permanently kill a dragon? _

 

“This is nonsense,” Irileth stated.

 

“It's nonsense to you because you're not a Nord!” Another guard snapped.

 

“There's only one way to know,” yet another stated, looking directly at Zahrassa. “Try to Shout.”

 

“...Shout?” Zahrassa stammered, still reeling.

 

“You know, like Tiber Septim!”

 

“...like  _ Tiber Septim? _ ”

 

“By the gods, you're daft...” the guard sighed, hitting himself in the side of his helmet with his hand. “You know, in Dragon language.”

 

_ Fus...wait, why did I think that? _ Zahrassa flashed back to the day before, standing in front of the curved wall with the glowing runes.  _ Well, might as well give it a shot... _

 

She slowly turned to face the dragon skeleton, feeling horribly confused and frightened. Her? Being some Nord legend? How could that possibly be? Just a week ago she was a small merchant trying to talk a friend out of recklessly diving into an ancient Nord burial crypt, and now she was being compared to Tiber Septim!

 

_ “FUS!” _ She Shouted, and a wave of energy flew out of her throat and hit the skeleton, making it shudder and roll. She immediately slapped her gloved hands over her mouth, a sudden ripping pain beginning in the bottom of her lungs and quickly tearing its way into her throat.

 

“She's the Dragonborn!”

 

The excited chatter continued, nobody noticing that Zahrassa was clutching her throat in an attempt to dull the burning pain that Shouting had caused. Any attempt at swallowing was met by even more pain ripping down the back of her throat as if it had been torn in half. It took several minutes before she could take her hands away from her throat and move her jaw without feeling like she was about to cough up blood.  _ No wonder Tiber Septim got to become a god, that hurts... _

 

“Balgruuf will want to speak to you.” Irileth said, finally noticing Zahrassa once more.

 

“Yes, of course...lead the way...” Zahrassa wheezed, straightening from her hunched over position.

 

“Are you alright?” Irileth asked, quirking an eyebrow at the small Khajiit.

 

“I think so,” she answered, looking at her blood and gore covered arms. “I don't exactly look presentable, though.”

 

“He'll have to deal with that, then, because there isn't much time. Now come.”

 

Zahrassa staggered along after the Dunmer woman, some of the guards patting her on the shoulder as she passed.

 

“Good job, kid,” one said.

 

“Thanks,” Zahrassa answered, turning to smile at the guard before hurrying to catch up with Irileth and fix her hair and the same time. The sun was beginning to set, and it looked like once she got cleaned up, Zahrassa would have a relatively peaceful evening-

 

_ “DOV-AH-KIIN!!” _

 

_ Or not... _ Zahrassa though as the ground shook from the power of...whatever that was sweeping down the mountains and across the tundra.

 

&%&%&%&

 

So there you have it. I nearly got killed by a dragon (again), killed that dragon, and found out that I'm Dragonborn, just like Tiber Septim was. I guess my wish of meeting a female Dragonborn was granted...sort of. I  _ am _ the female Dragonborn, and I don't know how to feel about that. Jarl Balgruuf said it was a great honor, and that the loud thing (which I learned is called “Thu'um”) that came down from the mountains was a bunch of monks, called Greybeards, summoning me to come talk to them. Looks like the adventure never ends.

 

It was a bit awkward, waddling back into Whiterun covered in blood and guts. A lot of people stared and whispered, but no one said anything to my face (except for Faendal, who started in with “what did you do to yourself?!?!” almost exactly like Erisla did whenever I came home covered in stuff I shouldn't have been covered in).

 

Oh, and Balgruuf named me a Thane. Me, a Khajiit, a Thane! Roghild was a Thane back in Solitude, and now I get to be one in Whiterun! I can buy my own house if I have the money for it, too! And I get my own housecarl, who I get to meet tomorrow morning after I get all of the blood out of my fur.

 

Now I need to go scrub myself clean. Luckily I have a spare dress I can wear after I'm done bathing, everything else is going to take a while to clean. At least Farengar will be happy, because he gets to look at whatever blood and flesh survives.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Fredas, 22 nd of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

Practically nothing interesting happened today unless you count some warriors from Hammerfell showing up in Whiterun and making a scene, but more on that later.

 

I got to meet my new housecarl today. Her name is Lydia, but I don't know if I like her or not yet. She didn't seem to enjoy the fact that she's now sworn to guard a fifteen-year-old that barely reaches her hip in height. Heck, she actually thought Faendal was the Dragonborn when she showed up at the inn this morning looking for us and wouldn't believe me when she was told otherwise. I guess everyone expects the Dragonborn to be some tall, muscular Nord man with a giant axe, not a short, boney Khajiit girl that freaked out about being touched by draugr blood (my claws still don't feel clean, the temptation to get someone to clip them off so that a new set grows back is  _ awful _ ) and hides behind others in a fight. But yes, I am the Dragonborn, whether I like it or not.

 

My armor and clothes were still being cleaned this morning by one of the women who works here at the inn, a very pretty Redguard named Saadia (sort of...again, more on that later). She was the only person who didn't scream when I waddled in covered in blood and guts last night, instead she just sighed and pointed me to a small back room where I could take a bath, leave my armor, and anything else I didn't feel like hauling around all day.

 

Since my usual dress, a light brown, long-sleeved dress that went down to my ankles, was soaking in a tub of boiling water, I had to make do with the somewhat dark blue dress that Gerdur gave me on Sundas (has it really only been a week?). I'm grateful to have something else to wear and all and it is a nice dress, it just clashes really badly with my fur and hair. Blue, orange, and red don't go together very nicely, but I managed to hide the red with my spare black headscarf (my usual colorful one is also being washed...I really hope the blood stains come out, it's my favorite).

 

I went to the Temple of Kynareth for a while in the mid-morning. I haven't been to any sort of temple since I was a kid, so it was kind of surreal. It brought back a lot of memories from when I was with the Little-Wish's and my real parents. Erisla was a priestess and when I was really little, she would take me to the Temple of the Divines with her when Sigirek was on a job and nobody else was around to watch me. She would be walking around doing her thing and I'd be running around getting underfoot and being adorable. Not many people in Solitude had ever actually seen a baby Khajiit, so a lot of people would come just to get a look at me. I met El that way. Her mother was also a priestess like Erisla, but El had tutoring and almost never came to the temple with her mother. One day when I was about seven years old and El was ten, she actually showed up. I was running around upstairs like all little kids do, and I went bounding down the stairs and almost knocked her over.

 

Literally running into people seems to be the way I make friends, doesn't it? It happens very often.

 

While I was at the temple, I started thinking a lot about my father, K'tabe. He was devout follower of Khenthari, and he always said that he wanted to someday be able to visit the Temple of Kynareth. He had an Amulet of Kynareth that he gave to me before I started living with the Little-Wish's that was missing the sapphire that is usually on the amulets. He took it off of his amulet so that he could use it make my mother's wedding ring, a small gold band with an emerald and a sapphire. I had both the ring and his amulet, but the Imperials must have taken them from me when...well, you know. I still have a hard time with what happened. I don't even clearly remember much of what happened anymore...oh well.

 

Either way, I haven't really stopped beating myself up for losing them, even though I don't show it. Who knows where they might be and if I'll ever see them again?

 

I left the temple to go for a walk outside of the walls for a little while, and I just kind of stood at the spot that we would make camp every time the caravan came to Whiterun. It was very surreal to be standing there on my own, and I had to go find a way to make myself busy so that I didn't start getting upset. I figured that I would go check on my armor and clothes, so I started to make my way back to the city, and that's when Saadia and the warriors from Hammerfell came in to my day.

 

When I got back inside the gates, there was a guard arguing with two of these warriors (who had really cool swords, by the way). The warriors wanted to search the city for some Redguard woman, and the guard would have none of it. They were also trying to get another warrior released from jail because he had climbed over the city wall late last night, but the guard wouldn't have any of that, either.

 

That's when the warriors asked me to help look for this woman, and said that they would pay me. Why they thought to ask the small Khajiit woman who looks like a small child, I have no idea. Either way, it worked, and I agreed to look for this woman. I had no idea how I would do it, though, since there are about a hundred Redguards living in the marketplace area alone. But I wanted one of those swords, so I had to do it.

 

Of course, then I learned what they  _ really _ were after I went to go ask Saadia if my clothes were clean or not. She took me to the room, then pulled a dagger on me and started asking me how much she needed to pay me to keep me quiet. Turns out that these “warriors” were assassins hired by the Thalmor, and it was Saadia (also known as Iman) that they were looking for. She still wouldn't put down the dagger when I promised I would help her, so I told her that the Thalmor were hunting me down, as well. Not only was it for something my parents must have done, but also because I kind of clawed up the First Emissary in a desperate attempt at freedom. She finally put the dagger down after that story. She knew about the assassin that got thrown in jail last night and pointed me in his direction.

 

It was relatively easy to get him to give me the information he needed. I managed to get him to tell me by lying and saying that I was hired to get him out of jail, but I just needed to make sure he wasn't a murderer or something (I'm very good at lying). I even paid off some of his bounty to prove myself, and the minute the gold left my hands he was talking away. I got all of the information needed, then got my money back from the guard by telling them he was with the Thalmor. I'm so clever.

 

Of course, I went and gave Saadia this information, and she asked me to go “take care” of the assassins. Which means that I'm probably going to have to kill more people. The bandits at Bleak Falls Barrow didn't bother me since it wasn't me who killed them (it was Faendal), and draugr are already dead, anyway, but I keep flashing back to-

 

No. I'm not going to talk about that anymore.

 

Now that Lydia is my housecarl and Faendal in Oblivion-bent on making sure I don't accidentally kill myself doing something stupid, I can just get them to kill these guys for me.

 

Right?

 

\- Zahrassa

Loredas, 23 rd of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

Here is what I have to say about my day: FUCK SPRIGGANS!

 

I don't usually use words that harsh, but with the way my day has gone...ugh. I need to sleep for the next three years to get over this. I'd rather stab Kematu again than have to fight another  _ fucking spriggan. _

 

And I'm pretty sure Lydia hates me. I forgot to get a new sword yesterday and the sun wasn't even up when we left for Swindler's Den this morning, so all I had to use to go up against a bunch of Thalmor assassins with amazing curved swords was a few iron arrows, a hunting bow I had plucked off of another bandit at Bleak Falls Barrow, and a steel dagger. Lydia asked me where my sword was, I told her that I lost up a dragon's nose, and I swear to Khenthari the look she gave me could have set me on fire. Well excuse me for only learning that I'm the savior of Tamriel three days ago!

 

Either way, the walk to Swindler's Den was pretty uneventful. We did see some pretty interesting things, but it was mostly me skipping along like a small child while Lydia brought up the rear. Faendal kept trying to convince Lydia that I really can fight, I'm not always child-like, I've just been having a bad week, but he gave up and we just went along in silence. The first thing Lydia actually said the entire walk was when we got near this cave called Bloated Man's Grotto and she pointed it out. She said it was very pretty, and I wanted to go in immediately, but then she turned around and said “don't you have something you're supposed to be doing?”, so we went past.

 

I don't really feel all that ready to go talk to the Greybeards at High Hrothgar just yet, so she's going to be extra special about that.

 

It's not that I'm scared to climb the tallest mountain in all of Tamriel (and possibly Nirn) to go talk to a bunch of men that can kill someone by just speaking (okay, maybe I'm a little scared of that), it's just that all of this happened so fast that it's overwhelming. This time last week I was crossing the border into Cyrodiil, and now I'm expected to be as great as Tiber Septim himself. I need time to process this whole thing, and some small part of me is still hoping that Idhisa will come back for me soon. And this whole “Voice” thing is just completely bonkers. I mean, I've used it a grand total of one time, so I know it's real and I can do it, but it  _ hurts. _ It feels like a bird without wings; I'm supposed to be able to do it, but I can't.

 

I did suddenly remember something in the middle of the night while I was trying (and failing, as usual) to sleep: while the caravan was camped outside of Markarth a few weeks ago, I overheard some guards talking about how Ulfric Stormcloak used his voice to kill Torygg. That must mean he can Shout kind of like me, right? Jarl Balgruuf said that anyone can learn how to Shout, but for normal people it takes years and years of practice, while for me, the Dragonborn, I can learn instantly (kind of messed up if you ask me). If Ulfric can Shout, but I'm the Dragonborn, it means that he knows something, and I don't have to climb up a mountain to find out. So my plan is to go to Windhelm and ask him instead. Faendal will probably go along with it since he likes exploring with me, but Lydia might need to be talked into it. She's much more task driven and would probably prefer if I went to High Hrothgar, but I think she'll come along after I explain that Eastmarch is warmer (Windhelm, though, I have no idea, I've never been there). Besides, staying in areas that are under Stormcloak control is probably safer for me until I get stronger; draugr are one thing because they aren't that bright, but Thalmor are a bit scarier since they come in hordes. And they can shoot lightening out of their hands, which I really don't want to get involved with.

 

Speaking of Thalmor, we made good time and got to Swindler's Den around noon (and dodged several giants that were walking along the road for some reason, to boot). There were bandits guarding the entrance to the cave, but Faendal got rid of them in less than thirty seconds. He's awesome like that.

 

The rest of the cave wasn't as easy. I was still hesitant about killing people, so I mainly went running into the areas that bandits were hiding, then lured them into range so that Lydia and Faendal could take them out for me. I nearly lost my tail to one Orc that was dual wielding war axes, but I rolled out of the way just in time. I did have to man up (woman up?) when it came time to face Kematu and his “A'likir” cronies, since he actually wanted to talk, and while we were talking his men surrounded us...yeah, that wasn't smart on my part.

 

He started telling me about how Saadia actually sold her city out to the Thalmor and that they were bringing her back to face justice, and I almost believed him before Lydia yelled at me to stop and think for a second. I'm actually glad she did.

 

If they were going to have her face justice for selling the city out to the Thalmor, then why didn't the assassins that were looking for her yesterday just tell the guards they were doing so? It doesn't matter if you're a Stormcloak, and Imperial, or unaffiliated,  _ everyone _ hates the Thalmor, and the guards would have handed Saadia over with no questions asked. Instead, the assassins tried to sneak into the city, and that just screams “Thalmor being up to no good in Whiterun” (I didn't think of all of this myself, Lydia had to guide me along a bit...I'm not  _ that  _ smart).

 

Kematu realized that I wasn't going to believe him and his Thalmor lies, but before he could do anything, I, without realizing what  _ I _ was doing, kicked him in the knee.

 

That small section of cave erupted into violence. Kematu came after me swinging and I scratched him in the face and stabbed him in the arm, then took his amazing curved sword while he was down and cut down the guy that tried to grab me from behind. Faendal and Lydia delivered all of the killing blows, so  _ technically _ I didn't kill anybody. Plus, they were Thalmor. That didn't leave anything on my conscience. I got two curved swords out of it, too!

 

We made good time in getting out of the cave, too, so I got to see Bloated Man's Grotto!

 

Which is where the spriggans were.

 

I hate spriggans.

 

What was actually funny about the whole thing was that they were actually harder to kill than the assassins that were after Saadia, and Saadia had warned me early this morning that they were extremely dangerous and skilled. If a spriggan can last longer in a fight than a highly trained assassin, the assassin is  _ not _ highly trained. I'm pretty sure I still have twigs in my hair.

 

Also, while we were in the Grotto, I found a sword that just might beat out these awesome curved swords. It was a long, thin blade left in front of a small Shrine of Talos by some man named Bolar who the Thalmor killed, and the note the man left said that if they wanted to fight Thalmor, then to take his sword.

 

I took it and used it to stab a dragon that came swooping down when we set up camp tonight...though I lost one of the curved swords up its nostril.  _ Again. _

 

But hey, maybe this whole “Dragonborn” thing isn't so bad. I'm feeling stronger every day!

 

\- Zahrassa

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Tirdas, 26 th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

I found Lydia's weakness! And it makes me, the tiny one who screamed about getting covered in draugr blood, look tough!

 

Lydia, the sarcastic, tough-as-nails housecarl who gave me a look that could kill when I told her I lost my sword up a dragon's nose, is afraid of spiders.

 

We set out for Riften this morning (we're going to stop there en-route to Windhelm), and less than five minutes after passing the intersecting roads near Honnigbrew Meadery, we stumbled up a frostbite spider that was in the process of rending a Flame Atronach limb from fiery limb. Spiders freak me out, of course, because no creature should have that many eyes and legs, and Faendal went pretty white, but Lydia's reaction took the cake.

 

Faendal and I screamed and started shooting it with arrows like normal people. Lydia screamed bloody murder and fainted. Yes, fainted (though Faendal wasn't any better, after it died full of arrows he ran over and started trying to stomp on it)! She was still pretty shaken up and refused to open her eyes until the body was gone, so Faendal and I had to push it into the river before she would even consider getting up. After that we wanted to join Lydia in rolling around in the middle of the road writhing because  _ ew _ . We all got a little closer in those few minutes, squirming and screaming about touching a spider. I'm getting the shakes from just writing about it,  _ UGH. _ At least now Lydia and I are getting along. Once you willingly touch a dead giant spider for someone, you kind of have to be their new best friend. That's what Gisli did for El and I all those years ago (not with giant spiders, of course, just the little ones). We would all be sitting in my bedroom talking or playing, and a small spider would come plodding out from Khenthari knows where. El and I would jump on my bed or a chair, hugging each other and screaming, and Gisli would sigh and attack it with her shoe, then pick it up ( _ eeeewwwwww _ ) and throw it out the window. “I'm used to it, I have an older brother,” she would always say.

 

I'm kind of glad I don't have an older brother. Gisli always had a bunch of horror stories about the things that her brother would do to her, so I was very glad to have an older sister instead...though I was practically an only child anyway. Sigirek was twenty years older than me (she would be thirty-five today if she's still alive somewhere) and was out of the house a lot of the time, and I don't have any biological siblings, which is actually very rare for Khajiit (I learned this from Dro'shuji). Most Khajiit have litters of three or more kittens. Twins are rare. Single births are even rarer. Just another thing that sets me apart from other people. I could fill a book, couldn't I?

 

...wait...

 

Never mind, I'm already doing that.

 

Anyway, after that spider incident earlier, the three of us actually started having conversations. Faendal and I didn't actually talk much with each other when it was just the two of us, since I kept trying to guard myself from something I couldn't explain. Lydia almost never spoke at all. But now, we're all getting along with each other, and I think I like that a lot better.

 

Nothing much really happened except for some bandits that were hiding out in a bridge across the White River attacking. One of them tried to claim that the road was a toll road, and, in all of my brilliance, I believed her and was about to hand over some money when Lydia stabbed the bandit. When we were done fighting Lydia thought that I was strategizing by distracting the bandits so that she and Faendal could get into position to attack. I didn't have the heart to tell her that no, I'm just not that bright and will probably believe anything I'm told if somebody doesn't intervene (like at Swindler's Den a few days ago), but Faendal did. I got a lecture about common sense from Lydia after that one.

 

It's not that I'm stupid, I just trust people too quickly. That may seem weird, since I didn't trust Ralof enough to tell him my whole story at first, but he got me to trust him by telling me he saved my life. There are still some things I don't trust people with, like my last name, since Erisla and Roghild instilled that fear of sharing it in me. “People will hurt you if you tell them your real last name!” they always said. So if people ask, I just tell them I don't remember it since I was adopted. I haven't even told Faendal or Lydia what it is, but they don't ask.

 

Everything else about me up for grabs to anyone who can talk me into it. It sucks how easily I trust people, but I can't help it. I like to believe that most people are good, even though these past few days have proven very much otherwise. I actually told Lydia this while we stopped for lunch in this little mining town called Darkwater Crossing (ironic, isn't it? I was just writing about how I trust people too easily and then I went and demonstrated it) and she gave me a sad look. She said she would try to help me as best as she could, but what do you actually do for someone who trusts too easily? I can't think of anything. Maybe she knows. I certainly don't.

 

We left Darkwater Crossing almost as soon as we arrived, and thus began my first real mountain climb. Faendal somehow knew the area (he told me that he used to be an explorer, hence his knowledge of ancient Nord burial crypts that got us through Bleak Falls Barrow, but that was all he said and I didn't bother asking more), and we took the road that swung us up past an old Nordic tower.

 

Lydia and Faendal were able to walk up that mountain with almost no problems, but I was another story. I don't have as much stamina as they do, so I started getting pretty worn out a lot faster. My legs were burning by the time we actually made it to the top and I was about ready to ask Faendal what in  _ Oblivion _ had possessed him to take us up this way, but I was too tired to argue. How am I supposed to be a living Nord legend if I felt like my legs were going to fall off after hauling myself up a mountain?

 

Thankfully, the rest of the way to Riften was nice and flat. It was also extremely beautiful because of all of the trees everywhere. The sunset made everything look even better when we got closer to the city, and we didn't run into any trouble on the road at all! The only people we saw before getting near the outskirts were a few extremely happy drunks that tried to get us to share a bunch of drinks with them. Lydia and Faendal accepted the mead they offered, but I turned it down since alcohol and young Khajiit don't mix well at all. I learned that the hard way when I was seven years old and trying to get Roghild to let me have a taste of the mead he was drinking. He figured “oh, why not, she probably won't like it” and let me have a sip. I was fine for about a half hour and then I got sick for three days straight. I haven't had any kind of alcohol since then. I'd rather be called a milk drinker (which I am because I love milk) than go through that again!

 

Kind of strange in hindsight because we're in Riften now, isn't it?

 

Speaking of Riften, getting into the city was a nightmare. It was dark and late when we got to the wall, but the guard at the gate wouldn't let us through. Lydia actually started yelling at her (“IS IT BECAUSE SHE'S A KHAJIIT? WE'RE TIRED AND DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR RACISM!”, stuff like that).

 

Turns out that we couldn't get in through that gate because they close the south gates at night for some reason, and it had nothing to do with the fact that I'm a Khajiit. Also long as I'm not part of a trade caravan, I'm allowed in the city.

 

We managed to get to the north gate, but one of the guards there said that there was a visitor's tax. As usual, I almost believed him and was about to hand over most of our money, when Lydia, who gets really,  _ really _ mean when she's tired, stopped me and informed the guard that he was, in her exact words “full of shit” because visitor's taxes are illegal in Skyrim. Then she threatened to snap his neck if he didn't let us in.

 

We got in pretty damn quick after that one.

 

Then we ran into two more obstacles, and their names were Maul and Brynjolf.

 

Maul works for this lady, Maven Black-Briar, who he says runs the town, not just the meadery. He's her right hand man and makes sure that no one causes her any problems, and he also knows all of the “dirt” on the people of Riften. He wouldn't tell me anything, though. None of my usual manipulation tricks worked, which was a little startling, to say the least. All he told me to stay out of this “Maven” person's way, but he didn't even bother telling me what she looked like. Kind of clever once I think about it, since it means that I probably will be thinking twice about what I say to strangers.

 

The second obstacle between Lydia and sleep was Brynjolf, a member of the Thieves Guild, who started talking smack about my money (which I don't have a lot of despite dressing nicely) and saying how I must have earned it dishonestly. If prying it out of the cold, twice-dead hands of draugr is dishonest money, well, then yes, I did earn a bit of it dishonestly. But I don't steal money!

 

Either way, Brynjolf told me that he had a job for me if I was interested, which would involve me stealing a ring and planting it on this Dunmer man named Brand-Shei (and odd name for a Dunmer, but then again I went by “Sorja” for many years and that isn't exactly a Khajiit name) to get him thrown in jail. I said:

 

“Well, if I get desperate enough that eating dragon souls for breakfast stops paying well, I'll come find you.”

 

Then I walked away.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Middas, 27 th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

Alright, change of plans. We're  _ not _ going to Windhelm today. Lydia nearly punched me when I told her why, then she proceeded to start teasing me.

 

So why are we not going to Windhelm yet? Because I met someone today. Someone who is male.

 

I swear it isn't a crush or anything, honestly! It's more of a mutual understanding of the other person's current emotions regarding our biological parents that we connected over. And missing amulets that we really,  _ really _ want back. Plus, he's twenty-six, I'm fifteen. That's just... _ ew _ .

 

His name is Kharjo and he's traveling with one of the other trade caravans that roam Skyrim. I was feeling restless at an abnormal hour as usual, so I went for a stroll just outside of the north gate. The sun was just starting to rise over the mountains, and after I walked down the road a little bit, I saw a caravan. I stupidly thought for a split second that it was Idhisa because the merchant looked a bit like her, but it wasn't. That didn't stop me from nearly sprinting up to them to check and startling the living daylights out of the merchant, Ahkari.

 

Even though she wasn't Idhisa, it was nice to see another Khajiit, and that dulled the pain for a bit. It did help ease some of the more difficult emotions I've been dealing with since...yeah. They were nice enough to let me sit and hang out with them for a while, and that was when I made almost instant friends with Kharjo.

 

&%&%&%&

 

“Skyrim is filled with all manner of dangerous beasts. Wolves, trolls, mammoths, and giants would all like to make a meal of us,” Kharjo said, swinging his axe up and bringing it down on a log, splitting clean in half. Zahrassa momentarily flashed back to when she tried to cut wood back in Riverwood and clocked herself in the head, then tried to stifle the laugh that threatened to burst out. “But the dragons are the most fearsome. Lucky for us, they don't seem to hunt along the roads.”

 

“Wolves were a huge problem for us when I was little,” she said, watching intently as Kharjo picked up the logs he had cut and placed them on the small, growing pile next to the chopping block. “One got me right here when I was four.”

 

Kharjo looked up to see Zahrassa pointing at the thin white scar that started just over her left eye, crossed over the bridge of her nose, and came to a stop at the top of her right cheekbone.

 

“I have one here from a bear,” he said, rolling up his left sleeve as showing Zahrassa his scarred forearm, “that attacked us in Dawnstar five months ago.”

 

“Looks painful,” Zahrassa observed, noting the dark patches of skin where there was no fur.

 

“It was,” he answered, rolling his sleeve back down and sitting on the chopping block so that he was facing her. “You say you were attacked by a wolf here in Skyrim when you were four. You have been here long, yes?”

 

“My entire life, give or take a few months,” she answered, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her chin on them. “What about you?”

 

“Not long, only a few months. I was hired to protect the others as we walk the roads of Skyrim,”

 

“Do you miss Elsweyr?”

 

“What kind of a question is that?” He laughed, patting her on the head. “It is a thankless task, protecting the others, and I would much rather be back home in Elsweyr, but I have little choice _ . _ ”

 

“Why?”

 

“Ahkari freed me from a prison in Cyrodiil, and now I must repay my debt to her,” he explained. “But it is a hidden blessing. Not many Khajiit can say they have visited Skyrim, no?”

 

“True,” Zahrassa said, tugging a bit of grass out of the ground and letting it fall from her hand. “Ever fewer can say that they've actually lived here and seen the inside of the cities...well, some of them.”

 

“You said that you were part of a trade caravan, yes? It is assumed that Khajiit in caravans are not allowed within the walls,”

 

“It's a very long story.”

 

“Khajiit has time,” Kharjo said, crossing his arms. Zahrassa gave him a slightly startled look, dropping all of the grass she was holding in one swoop. “Is something wrong?”

 

“Oh, no, it's just that...nobody has ever really been interested in knowing. Or even asked. They just kind of...accept it, I guess?” She shrugged, plucking another handful of grass. “I don't normally give the details, I just say that I was raised by Nords, and that's that.”

 

“Raised by Nords?” Kharjo asked, intrigued. “I wish to know the details.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Of course, it sounds like a most intriguing tale,”

 

“Well, my parents vanished when I was five, and a Nord family in Solitude took me in. They gave me a new name and everything,” Zahrassa explained, pulling out a third fistful of grass and sprinkling it back onto the ground. “Then they disappeared, too, when I was twelve. I joined a trade caravan, and well, now...”

 

“I do hope they did not vanish as well,” Kharjo exclaimed. “That would be most tragic.”

 

“No, we got separated. We were going to Cyrodiil to visit the pregnant sister of our boss, then her daughter fell and broke her foot. I went looking for the ingredients to make a potion to fix it, and...I...don't exactly enjoy talking about what happened after that, but it was very...unpleasant.” Zahrassa took a long, hard look at the ground. “Anyway, after all of that, a bunch of stuff happened, and I found that I'm the Dragonborn-”

 

“S'rendarr's mercy,  _ you? _ The Dragonborn?” Kharjo gasped, sitting up straight. Zaynabi, who had been sewing something next to the fire, looked up to stare at the two conversing Khajiit. “This one always assumed that the Dragonborn of legend would be a Nord!”

 

“Well, guess what, she's not,” Zahrassa sighed. “She's a small, overtired Khajiit.”

 

“But you are just a cub!”

 

“I know that, but whichever divine that is in charge of these things didn't care.”

 

“I hope that you are not alone in this,”

 

“Oh, no, I have friends who help me!” Zahrassa explained quickly. “A Nord woman named Lydia and a Bosmer man named Faendal. They travel with me. Well, Lydia has to, because the Jarl of Whiterun-”

 

“Slow down, yes? Khajiit needs to take a moment to process, yes?” Kharjo said, making Zahrassa pause. “Now, what is it about the Jarl of Whiterun?”

 

“A dragon attacked a small fort in Whiterun, and I was asked to help fight it because I survived...well, I helped fight it, it died, I absorbed its soul, and the Jarl made me his Thane. Lydia protects me. Faendal helped take care of me when I first...well...”

 

“I see you have an aversion to discussing your separation, yes?”

 

“It's not the separation that I have a hard time talking about, it's what happened to me in the beginning that I have a hard time talking about,” Zahrassa explained, hugging her knees to her chest even tighter than before while she unconsciously let her ears begin to flatten.

 

“Soldiers have times like that,” Kharjo said, trying to make Zahrassa feel better. “They do not wish to speak of battles they have been in.”

 

“But I'm a kid, not a soldier,” Zahrassa said.

 

“That is fine. Just take your time. You will be able to discuss it someday,” he responded, patting her lightly on the head once more.

 

“There were Thalmor there,” Zahrassa mumbled.

 

“But you got away, yes?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then that is something to celebrate.”

 

“I guess. It's just...alongside all that happened, I lost my mother's wedding ring and an amulet that my real father gave me before he vanished.”

 

“This one knows exactly how you feel,” Kharjo said sympathetically, “a few days ago, we were ambushed. A nuisance, really, but many of the marauders had quick fingers. One of them stole my Moon Amulet, given to me by my mother when I was just a cub. It is my only memory of home in this cold land.”

 

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Zahrassa responded sadly, “where did it happen?”

 

“At a road intersection outside of Dawnstar, near Heljarchen. One of them carried a note ordering them to bring whatever they stole to a place called Halted Stream Camp. I believe that is where they are headquartered.”

 

“If you keep an eye out for my father's amulet, I'll keep an eye out for yours.”

 

“You are very kind to offer,” Kharjo said, “but be careful. I miss my amulet, but a life is not as easily replaced.”

 

“I'm sure I'll be fine, I  _ have _ eaten dragon souls before.” Zahrassa laughed, sending the two into a fit of giggles.

 

“ZAHRASSAAAAAAAAA!!”

 

“Oh shoot,” Zahrassa gasped, jumping up from her seat on the ground.

 

“What is it?” Kharjo asked, also standing up and turning in the direction the voice had come from.

 

“It's Lydia. She's probably wondering where I am,” she explained, dusting her dark green skirts off.

 

“You are looking for someone, yes?” Ahkari asked as Lydia appeared at the main tent, huffing.

 

“Yes,  _ someone _ didn't tell me where she was going,” Lydia snapped, glaring at Zahrassa as she walked over sheepishly. Kharjo laughed.

 

“I'll see you later, Kharjo,” she said as Lydia began walking back towards the gates, grumbling under her breath. “Remember, it's an Amulet of Kynareth that's missing the sapphire!”

 

“I will remember!” He called back. “Save travels!”

 

Zahrassa followed Lydia back into the city, a real, genuine smile on her face for the first time since Helgen.

 

&%&%&%&

 

I may be acting like there's something, but there isn't any. I'm just really glad to have made a new friend that has some sort of understanding of how I've been feeling. Honestly.

 

The rest of the day went along normally. I talked with some of the shopkeepers, including the Brand-Shei man I mentioned yesterday. He sells imports from Morrowind at the market, and let me tell you, the Dunmer have some nifty-looking things! And the rare ingredients he had, oh by, Dro'shuji would have a field day! Sadly, I can't afford them right now. I could, however, afford this strange-looking plant called an “ash yam”, which are basically yams grown in ash. That's it.

 

We also had the whole “being adopted by another race” thing in common, which provided some interesting conversation. He was adopted by Argonians, I was adopted by Nords. However, he has no idea who his birth parents are, while I at least know the names of mine. I said that I would keep an eye out for anything that could provide him with some information, then started looking around at the things that the other merchants were selling (and realized that I'm becoming a professional errand girl while being the legendary Dragonborn).

 

Of course, then my mouth went and got me in trouble with Maven Black-Briar...oops.

 

&%&%&%&

 

“I don't like being made a fool of, Brand-Shei. Not one bit.”

 

“Maven, please, I didn't know it was your man! Had I known, I would have looked the other way, I swear!” Brand-Shei stammered. Zahrassa, who was looking at a piece of armor that was for sale in the next stall over, looked up to see what was going on. A tall Nord woman, who must have been none other than Maven Black-Briar, was looming over Brand-Shei with an extremely ugly look on her face.

 

“Turning him in to the guards? Have you joined Mjoll as official peacekeepers of Riften? You cost me a lot of coin!” She snarled, setting her hands on the sides of his stall and leaning in.

 

“Hey, leave him alone!” Zahrassa cried, dropping the piece of armor she was looking at and turning to face Maven, hands on her hips. The merchant that had been trying to sell her the armor scowled. Maven looked away from Brand-Shei to glare at Zahrassa, who glared back. Lydia looked up from the jewelry she had been inspecting at another stall and felt her stomach drop; why was Zahrassa always getting herself into trouble?

 

“What did you say?” Maven asked dangerously, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“I said 'leave him alone',” Zahrassa answered, attempting to stand even higher on her toes to make herself seem bigger. Much of the marketplace had gone silent, Brynjolf actually stopping his tirade about his Falmer blood elixir to stare. Lydia didn't know if she should make a move or not.

 

“Do you know who I am?” Maven finally asked.

 

“Afraid not. Do you know who  _ I _ am?” Zahrassa asked back, her ears slightly flattening against her head under the dark green headscarf she was wearing. Maven looked about ready to strike her and silence fell between the two once more. Neither looked like they were going to speak any time soon, but Zahrassa finally did. “I'm Zahrassa. The Dragonborn. And I think people would like you better if you were nicer. Just a thought.”

 

A small gasp ran through the market as Lydia hit herself in the face.

 

“Dragonborn?” Maven inquired, surveying Zahrassa from top to bottom. Then, she broke out in a small smile, making the overall atmosphere of the market somewhat calmer. “It seems that we may have gotten off on a bad foot, Dragonborn.”

 

Zahrassa took her hands off of her hips and crossed her arms, a little apprehensive towards Maven's sudden mood whiplash.

 

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am-” Maven began extending a hand, and Zahrassa jumped backwards.

 

“Do  _ not _ touch me,” she hissed, her claws unconsciously creeping out of her fingertips and pushing against the inside of her leather gloves. Maven pulled her hand back as if she had been burned and began to glare once more.

 

“She doesn't like being touched by strangers.” Lydia finally said, appearing at Zahrassa's side.

 

“I presume that you are her guardian?” Maven inquired, tilting her head but still not taking her eyes off of the Khajiit in front of her.

 

“Until she comes of age, yes,” Lydia lied. “Sometimes she doesn't know what she's doing. I would assume you know how young girls can act at times?”

 

“Yes, I can understand,” Maven said, finally taking her glare off of Zahrassa and looking at Lydia. “Well, perhaps we can have a better introduction some other time.”

 

“I think that's a very good idea. Until then, I'll be sure to make sure she understands that she needs to watch her mouth more frequently,” Lydia said with a tone of finality. The two women nodded at each other, and then Maven walked off, presumably to go bully someone else, but Zahrassa still wasn't in the clear. The exact moment that Maven turned her back, Lydia grabbed one of Zahrassa's ears and gave it a twist.

 

“Hey, stop it!” Zahrassa hissed, tugging her head away and covering her ears with her hands.

 

“Watch your mouth more often and maybe then you won't get your ears twisted!” Lydia snapped, crossing her arms and glaring down at Zahrassa like an angry mother. Zahrassa scowled back before returning to looking at the armor she had been inspecting earlier. Lydia sighed, ruffled Zahrassa's headscarf, and went to look at the imports that Brand-Shei was selling. The hustle and bustle of the marketplace returned soon afterward.

 

&%&%&%&

 

I remember that my mother used to twist my ears around whenever I misbehaved. I wonder where Lydia learned to do that?

 

Anyway, after that debacle (and one of the beggars yelling “you're gonna die kid” as I walked by), I wandered out of the marketplace and poked around the city a little more...not on my own, though. Lydia says that until I “learn my lesson”, she's going to constantly supervise me like an overbearing mother. Ugh.

 

When it was getting late, she and I started to head back to the inn, but we accidentally went into this place called “Haegla's Bunkhouse”. I recognized a lot of the people there from the marketplace and a Bosmer man offered me a sweet roll in celebration of me mouthing off at Maven Black-Briar and living to tell the tale. Lydia wouldn't let him give it to me because she hates fun.

 

I managed to convince her to let me hang around for just a little longer, and that's when I met an Argonian woman named Wujeeta. She was sitting off by herself and looked like she was on the verge of tears, so I went and asked her what was wrong. She told me that she was in danger of losing her job because of her skooma addiction and had no idea what to do about it. All I really know about skooma is that a lot of the guards in Markarth bought it from Idhisa and that Dar'zahn used to be addicted to the stuff, so I wasn't very much help other than offering Wujeeta a small healing potion so that she didn't feel as horrible.

 

I was still a little curious about skooma, though, so I started asking her a few questions. It took a while for her to open up about it, but I learned that there was a notorious dealer right in the city that had been selling to her. I also gave her some of my gold so that she could afford to buy more healing potions just in case the one wasn't enough, and then Lydia dragged me off to the inn because it was getting late, and as I've said before, Lydia gets mean when she's tired.

 

I'm going to try and tell the Jarl about the whole skooma thing tomorrow so that I can try and get more help for Wujeeta. Dar'zahn never really told M'zami and I much about skooma, but he did give us many lectures about how it ruined his life. Sometimes I thought that Idhisa put him up to it so that M'zami and I wouldn't turn to the stuff.

 

Needless to say, it worked. I don't know if it really does make your eyes bleed and fall out, but I'm not going to take the chance if it does!

 

\- Zahrassa

 

 

Turdas, 28 th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

I FOUND MY MOTHER'S WEDDING RING! And stopped almost all of the skooma operations going on in Riften, but that isn't as important to me because I FOUND MY MOTHER'S WEDDING RING!

 

I got up early (as usual), left a note for Lydia telling her that I would be in the market and would try not to get into any fights but no promises, and went to the market to just sit and watch the sun come up. Madsei, the Argonian jewelry maker, and Balimund, the Nord blacksmith, were the only ones that were out and about, save for a few guards (one of which praised me for having the guts to sass Maven Black-Brair...I  _ really _ hope that isn't going to be what I'm known for for the rest of time). Balimund was at work with a sword, while Madsei was carefully placing his merchandise into small display cases in his market stall. I decided to go over and say hi, as well as look at the shiny things.

 

Madsei was actually glad to see me around, because he needed some help reading an inscription on a ring that he had gotten from Ahkari yesterday. He said it looked like it was in Ta'agra, but couldn't tell. I don't exactly know Ta'agra anymore, since I haven't actually spoken it since I was five years old. I really only know a few simple words and things that my parents used to say a lot (like  _ shurh ahziss kirmir'iiliten _ , which my mother said to me all of the time), but I still offered to take a look.

 

I had to say it out loud (I can't read Ta'agra very well because I never really learned to read it, just Tamrielic) and was excited when I understood what it said. Then I nearly screamed because I remembered that was what my mother's wedding ring had inscribed in it when my father made it for her.

 

_ Ahziss ajo'tok fusozay; ahziss skra'iv an ahziss maaszi; M'nara Barahir. _

 

“My wonderful wife without regret; my everything and my necessity; M'nara Barahir.”

 

I started crying immediately, which startled Madsei quite a bit. I explained what I could about how I had lost it (and carefully guarded my last name) and asked if I could have it back pretty please. He was a bit hesitant at first because of the fact that he had paid a lot for it and I didn't have the coin to pay him back, but he eventually agreed. In exchange, I'm going to help him acquire some materials so he can make more jewelry.

 

I have a pretty huge “to do” list right now, but Lydia wrote everything down for me. I'll just add Madsei's things and stick the list in here so that I don't misplace it...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Zahrassa's To Do List as Written by Lydia

1\. Go to High Hrothgar

2\. Speak to Ulfric Stormcloak (Windhelm)

3\. Find Kharjo's Moon Amulet at Halted Stream Camp

4\. Stop arguing/fighting with strangers

5\. Bring mammoth tusk to Madsei in Riften

6\. Find gold ore for Madsei in Riften

7\. Find two flawless sapphires for Madsei in Riften

8\. Buy pants

9\. Talk to Jarl of Riften about Wujeeta

10\. Find a wizard that can read enchantments

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

That should cover it.

 

Anyway, after I got my mother's ring back, I went back to the inn to tell Lydia and Faendal the good news. I ran into Lydia the minute I walked back into the inn (she had woken up, read my note, and was on her way to come find me) and we went back to the room so that I could show her the ring (she wouldn't let me tell her in the barroom because “the thieves guild has the run of the place and you'll lose it again”).

 

It's a very pretty ring that my father made himself. It's a golden band, with a sapphire in the middle that is surrounded by small emeralds. He took the sapphire out of his Amulet of Kynareth because he couldn't afford to buy the gem itself. I think it's also enchanted, but I don't know what the enchantment is and I'm not about to destroy it just to figure it out. I'll have to try to find a wizard that can read enchantments so I can know...better add that to my to-do list really quick.

 

After I got done showing my mother's wedding ring off to Faendal and Lydia, we went to go speak to the Jarl. While we were walking to the Keep, the blacksmith asked me is I could make a fast sword delivery to one of the Jarl's sons, who had broken it. I agreed to it, since I could use the whole “delivery girl” guise to get into the Keep if they didn't just let me in, but it actually wasn't too much of a hassle in the first place! The guard at the door let me in without asking any questions the minute I told her I was the Dragonborn and needed to see the Jarl about something important.

 

The Jarl's housecarl wasn't going to agree to that as easily, though. The Jarl was busy talking to none other than Maven Black-Briar about something, and then all of a sudden there a was big, redheaded Nord man in Elven armor demanding to know who I was and why I was there. I stammered out that I was the Dragonborn, had a delivery for one of her children, and had information about skooma operations in the city. He was hesitant to believe that I was actually the Dragonborn, but let me talk to the Jarl anyway. While she was finishing up talking to Maven, I gave her son Harrald his repaired sword. He gave me two very pretty gemstones as a thank you, but I don't know what I'll do with them. For now, I'll keep them wrapped up in my satchel.

 

Maven finally left (I was tempted to stick my tongue out at her when her back was turned, but Lydia looked at me as if she would twist me ears around again if I some much as blinked at her wrong, and I thought against it), and then I got to talk to the Jarl, Laila Law-Giver.

 

She was initially skeptical of me being the Dragonborn, just like her housecarl, only instead of being skeptical because I'm not a Nord, she was skeptical because I'm so young. “But then again, a child assassinated the First Chancellor of Summerset Isles during the Great War,” she said after that, which really got my interest. Unfortunately, she told me that barely anything is known about what exactly happened, so we just went right to me telling her about Wujeeta's problems with skooma and how she got in the city from some man near the warehouse.

 

Next thing I know, Faendal, Lydia, and I are taking the whole illegal operation down ourselves on the Jarl's orders. We first had to get past Maul, who was guarding the door, so I lied and told him that Maven was looking for him. He must not be as smart as he claims, because he went running right away, leaving us to waltz right inside...well, sneak, but you get the idea. There were two men measuring out some moon sugar into small bowls that noticed us and came after me with a dagger, but I pulled out the oathblade I got from Bloated Man's Grotto and one of the curved swords and he slid to a stop in terror, which is when Faendal shot him with a bow and arrow. The other guy thought it would be a good idea to target Lydia with just a dagger, but he was mistaken and didn't even last three seconds.

 

We ransacked the entire warehouse and found a note that said where the source of all of the skooma was that we could bring to the Jarl, but I also took a few vials of moon sugar for myself (I don't take it as a drug, I swear, I use it for cooking) and put every bottle of skooma into a big bag. We managed to get out of the warehouse before Maul came back and I threw the sack of skooma into the lake before we went back to the Jarl.

 

The whole thing wasn't over yet, though. Jarl Laila sent us to the main base of operations to stop it right at the source, so in the early afternoon we were scrambling around Cragslane Cavern killing the dealers and the wolves that they set on us...well, Lydia and Faendal killed the dealers, I killed the wolves and smashed all of the bottles of skooma that were laying around. One of the wolves reared up, had its paws on my shoulders, and tried to bite me, so I hit it in the teeth with the hilt of the oathblade. Lydia was proud of me for that one.

 

It was starting to get dark out when we went back to Riften and the Jarl had gone to bed by the time we got back, but her steward promised to tell her what we had done tomorrow morning and paid us pretty well. Add that on top of the gold we snatched from the cavern, and I'm carrying more gold than I've ever seen in one place in my entire life in a black pouch on my belt. When we got back to the inn for the night we divided the gold up and decided that we would head back to Whiterun in the morning to go find Kharjo's amulet.

 

Faendal has largely left me alone about the fact that my new best friend is a male, but Lydia is still teasing me. Rude.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Fredas, 29 th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

Fuck spriggans.

 

That is all.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Loredas, 30 th of Last Seed, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

I bought a house! And found Kharjo's amulet! And fought a dragon outside of Whiterun...again! That makes three dragons dead by my hand and the second time I have walked into Whiterun covered head to toe in blood and guts.

 

Lydia, Faendal, and I left Whiterun early in the morning and asked a passing guard where we could find Halted Stream Camp. He told us that it was directly west of the Whitewatch Tower on the road leading to Dawnstar, right by the border in to the Pale, and then he called us crazy and walked off.

 

It was extremely cold all day, which made our travel time a lot longer and slower than usual. Khajiit are desert creatures and, despite being covered in fur, not built for the cold. I may have lived in Solitude, the northernmost city in all of Skyrim, for several years, but Solitude is relatively temperate compared to the rest of Haafingar Hold. Faendal has only been living in Skyrim for a few years now, and in the southern parts of the province at that, so he isn't exactly built for the cold, either. Lydia had no complaints because she's a Nord and actually able to resist the cold, leaving Faendal and I shivering in our boots as we waddled along. The guards at the Whitewatch Tower were kind enough to let us spend a few minutes at the tower to warm up (while Lydia called us a “bunch of whiners”) and were about to point us in the direction of Halted Stream Camp when I had to play Dragonborn and save the day. At least this time I didn't get a bird's eye view of the Hold...but I still got uncomfortably close to its teeth.

 

&%&%&%&

 

“Land, you scaly bastard, land!” Lydia yelled as Zahrassa ducked behind her to avoid a sudden blast of fire. Lydia, Faendal, and the guards were working tirelessly to shoot the light green dragon out of the sky, while Zahrassa stood on the ground and taunted it while firing off the occasional arrow; her aim was still terrible, especially when it came to moving targets that could breathe fire and fly. The dragon itself was mostly after Zahrassa and couldn't care less about the other people on the ground, but Zahrassa was proving very hard to catch. Just when the dragon had her in its sights, she would vanish behind a small wall or start moving too fast to see.

 

“How much can that thing take?” One of the guards yelled as Zahrassa darted past, jumping on top of a low stone wall and notching her own arrow.

 

“I don't know!” She yelled back, jumping off of the wall and shoving the guard aside as a blast of fire whizzed past and caused one of the smaller fortifying walls of the tower to explode.

 

“You're the  _ Dragonborn _ , aren't you supposed to know these kind of things?!” Another guard demanded as she dove past them to avoid a flaming hunk of stone.

 

“I may be Dragonborn, but I'm still fifteen!” Zahrassa gasped as she staggered to her feet and fired an arrow in the general direction of the dragon. “I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time, I just wing it!”

 

“Well, find out fast!” The guard Zahrassa had shoved aside snapped as he got back to his feet and picked his bow up off of the smoldering ground.

 

“Just get it on the ground so I can stab it!” Zahrassa ordered, trying and failing to hit the dragon with an arrow once more.

 

“Only if you promise to get someone to teach you how to shoot properly!” The female guard who had crouched behind the low wall yelled, standing up and firing an arrow before laying flat on the ground once more.

 

“I will when I get the time!” Zahrassa responded as she tore off in the direction of a guard that had been terribly burned laying in the road. She managed to wrench a healing potion out of her potion bag and uncork it as she slid to a stop and dropped to her knees next to the injured man, dumping the entire contents of the bottle on his head before jumping over him and running to the burning grass on the other side of the road where a female guard was struggling to get to her feet.

 

“Stop worrying about us and kill that thing!” She demanded as Zahrassa grabbed her arm and started pulling her away from the licking flames.

 

“Over my dead body!” Zahrassa snapped, ducking as the dragon roared and swooped down at her before flying back into the sky in a graceful arc. Using the Khajiit as a support, the female guard finally managed to get to her feet and apply a healing spell to her burned legs. “You know magic?!”

 

“Of course I do, I'm a Breton! Now go get that thing!” The guard snapped, pointing at the dragon circling overhead. Zahrassa readied another arrow as the dragon lowered and focused its on her, hovering over the ground as it made eye contact with the Khajiit.

 

“Please work...” Zahrassa said under her breath as the dragon opened its mouth and she let the iron arrow fly into its gaping throat. The dragon let out a strangled cry as the arrow sailed down its throat and stuck itself into its inner flesh, roaring and taking off for the sky as fast as it could.

 

“You did it!” The guard yelled excitedly, grabbing Zahrassa's shoulder and shaking it. “Keep firing!”

 

Zahrassa notched another arrow and watched as the dragon began circling overhead once more, its mouth hanging open as it made even more load cries of distress. Zahrassa and the guard began to advance away from the smoldering grass and towards the road, arrows at the ready as the dragon started to lower to the ground once more, this time turning its attention towards someone who had climbed up to the roof of the tower. The dragon opened its mouth even wider, when Zahrassa saw an arrow fly into its eye. The dragon screamed and shot into the sky before suddenly plummeting towards the ground a short distance away. Zahrassa and the guard sprinted towards it at a break neck speed, readying their arrows once more as it hit the ground and slid towards it, dirt and grime flying everywhere as it carved a new dent into the ground.

 

The dragon screeched to a halt and shook its great head, its single eye locking with Zahrassa's.

 

_ “YOL...” _

 

“Get back!” The guard shrieked, shoving Zahrassa backwards, dropping her bow, and pulling up a ward in each hand.

 

_ “...TOR SHUL!!” _

 

Zahrassa brought her arms up to cover her face as the dragon unleashed a steady stream of fire at the two. The Breton spread her legs farther apart and grunted from the exertion of keeping both wards going, both her and Zahrassa sliding backwards from the sheer force of the bast. Zahrassa chanced a look as her headscarf flopped off of the back of her head and began to unravel, releasing her hair to whip back and forth as her skirts billowed out.

 

“I can't keep this up much longer!” The guard hollered, her arms starting to shake while the fire stream refused to relent. Zahrassa's mind reeled as she tried to figure out a way to somehow interrupt the stream of fire while battling the sudden fist that had gripped the bottom of her stomach at the feeling of heat on her face. If only there was a way she could force the fire out of the way to she could get a chance at the dragon's face!

 

_ ...Force the fire out of the way...Force! That's It! _ She thought, snatching her headscarf just before it flew off of her neck and sloppily re-wrapping it around her neck.

 

“On the count of three, drop the ward and run that way as fast as you can!” Zahrassa yelled over the roaring of the inferno, grabbing the guards soldier and pointing to the north.

 

“What?! Are you crazy?!” She exclaimed, turning to stare at Zahrassa.

 

“I think so, but I have an idea!”

 

“If you get burned to a crisp, it's not my fault!” The guard yelled in agreement.

 

“One!”

 

Zahrassa spread her feet apart as she inched her way closer to the guard's arm, mentally preparing herself to bear the brunt of the flame.

 

“Two!”

 

She nervously anticipated the pain she was going to feel in just a few short seconds, placing her hands on the hilts of her swords.  _ When will it run out of fire?! _

 

“THREE!”

 

The wards dropped, the guard sprinted away, and Zahrassa felt her face go from uncomfortably warm to painfully hot as the fire licked at her orange fur.

 

_ “FUS!” _

 

The painful heat stopped immediately and the roar of the fire stream went silent as the blast erupted out of Zahrassa's mouth with the familiar feeling of small knives raking up the skin of her throat, the wave striking the dragon in the face and ceasing its breath of fire. Ignoring the excruciating pain in her throat and face, Zahrassa whipped out her swords, oathblade in the right and scimitar in the left, and plunged towards the dragon's massive head. It shook its head in disorientation as Zahrassa darted to the side, drove the scimitar into the side of its jaw, and used it as leverage to haul herself up onto its scaly head, where she leaned against the head spike and yanked the scimitar out of its flesh in just a few fluid motions.

 

She held on for dear life, much as she had when she fought her first dragon at the Western Watchtower, when the dragon began to try and shake her off of its head. Arrows started to pummel it from all directions as Zahrassa inched down its nose and drove both swords into the top of its head. It roared and lifted its great neck up to a ninety degree angle, breathing fire into the sky while Zahrassa dangled off of the scimitar that was still embedded in its skull. Without thinking or being aware of what she was doing, Zahrassa pulled the oathblade out of the dragon's head and swung herself towards its good eye while clinging to the hilt of the scimitar, and began to stab wildly.

 

The oathblade punctured the eye in one strike, coating Zahrassa in blood and gore once more. It began to thrash its head wildly once more and Zahrassa stabbed the oathblade back into its flesh so that she had something else to hang on to. Meanwhile, the guards, Lydia, and Faendal shot arrow after arrow into the dragon's exposed chin and neck, Zahrassa bracing her feet against the scales so that she was in a more sturdy position.

 

As the dragon began to lower its head, finally on its last legs of life, Zahrassa ripped her swords from its flesh and charged up its neck, jumping to a stop on its nose and delivering the killing blow. Finally dead, Zahrassa rode its head back to the ground as it dropped like a rock, slamming down and kicking up a huge cloud of dust and dirt that coated Zahrassa and everyone caught in its radius with a resounding  _ THOCK _ .

 

The dust settled, the dragon's corpse stilled, and Zahrassa looked up to smile at the small team of guards and her friends that had once again managed to fell a dragon.

 

“That was actually kind of fun!” The male guard that had been laying in the road and healed by Zahrassa exclaimed as Faendal, covered head to toe in dirt and sporting an impressive splatter of dragon blood on the front of his clothes, caught Zahrassa as she slid off of the head, dragging her swords along with her.

 

“Good idea, hitting it in the eye from the tower,” another dirt-covered guard stated, clapping Faendal on the shoulder. Zahrassa slowly started to become aware of the scraping ache in her throat as she poured a small amount of a healing potion into hands and pat them against her burned face.

 

“Any dead?” She asked, pouring a little more out for her face and taking a swig to ease the pain in her throat. It felt like swallowing a fistful of rusty nails and tasted like blood, but at least the pain began to subside.

 

“No, not one casualty, thanks to you running around and healing everyone,” the previously burned male guard told her.

 

“Any injured?”

 

“A few, but nothing Lysadette can't handle,”

 

“Who's that?”

 

“Me,” the Breton guard that had protected Zahrassa and herself from the dragon fire with wards answered as she returned, breathing heavily from sprinting so fast. Lydia finally appeared as well, covered in dirt and blood while her brown hair was flying in all directions.

 

“Thanks for all the help, I owe you one,” Zahrassa said, nodding at Lysadette.

 

“Look me up next time you're near Heljarchen.” She responded, shaking Zahrassa's bloody hand.

 

“Will do,” Zahrassa answered as the dragon corpse became engulfed in flames and the multi-colored light that was its soul began to surround her.

 

&%&%&%&

 

One would think that after fighting a dragon like that, we would have gone back to Whiterun and not bothered with Halted Stream Camp until tomorrow.

 

Ha, no way! Not us!

 

The guards went back to their posts, talking about the dragon attack, while Faendal, Lydia, and I stood around staring at how messed up we looked. We were all still a little high from the adrenaline rush, so we decided that we might as well go get those bandits. It went surprisingly well and quickly, probably because a screaming cat covered in the blood of a dragon that she stabbed in the eye and wielding two swords at once is pretty scary-looking. One bandit started screaming that “something that crawled out of Oblivion is in the mine” as he ran away, tripping over a tripwire and getting killed by his own trap. Maybe I should start pouring a bowl of dragon blood over myself before going into battle, because it seems to do my job for me.

 

I plucked Kharjo's amulet out of the hands of the bandit that got killed by his own trap, and we looked around at all of the loot that the bandits had stashed away in the cavern below their camp. Rare spell books, gemstones, various ores, countless mammoth tusks, rare pelts, and so much more was down there, and it was pretty hard to haul all of it out of there. I pocketed two thirds of the gold to split among the three of us, put everything that looked stolen into a big sack, and filled a bunch of other bags with everything else we could carry out.

 

It felt so satisfying to walk back into Whiterun covered in the blood of a dragon I killed and carrying bags and bags of loot. People stopped and stared at us as we waddled our way up to Dragonsreach to give the stolen goods to the Jarl. One of the maids screamed when I walked in the door, coated head to toe in blood with at least ten mammoth tusks tied to my back and dragging a sack of stolen jewelry.

 

Using the money that I got as a reward for finding all of the stolen items, wiping out a whole fortress of bandits, and killing a dragon for the third time, I bought the house that Jarl Balgruuf had offered to me when he first made me his Thane. His steward, Proventus, gave me the key and told me that the house was relatively empty right now, but he would have some men start moving furniture in right away.

 

I gave one of the many tusks I had grabbed to a Nord woman named Ysolda who said she needed one to give to this Khajiit named Ma'dran so that he would teach her how to be a merchant, and put one aside to take to Madsei. In our sweep of the camp, I found everything that he had asked for, as well as some extras that I plan to give to him as a thank you for letting me have my mother's ring back for free.

 

The little house I bought (me, a homeowner!) isn't much right now, but it's livable. There's a small front room with a fire pit, and then in the back of the room on the left wall is a small alchemy lab that can be converted into a third bedroom if I need it to be. There is a staircase that leads to the two bedrooms and small landing on the second floor. The main bedroom upstairs has a double bed, while the smaller bedroom is for the housecarl. For now, Faendal is staying in the small bedroom, while Lydia and I will sleep in the main bedroom.

 

I found a trap door under the staircase when Faendal moved a bunch of crates to the fire pit so we had a makeshift chairs for the night, which lead into a cellar that the steward had not told me about. There wasn't much to it, but it was full of empty barrels and chests and had several planters full of dirt so that I could have a small greenhouse. That was probably the part that got me the most excited and I spent the rest of the evening planning out my new garden while Lydia made dinner.

 

I had a lot of inner conflict about buying the house in the first place, because if I bought it, it meant that Idhisa probably wasn't going to come back for me anytime soon. But I can't afford a room at the inn every single night and need a secure place for all of my things, so I kind of needed the house in the first place. Oh well, I'm tired and still damp from washing the dragon blood off earlier, so I might as well just go to bed and sleep on it. My furniture is going to be moved in tomorrow, so I'll need to stick around. That should give me plenty of time to think about it.

 

Until then, I'm going to sleep. I hope Lydia doesn't mine sleeping next to me, since I'm currently a cuddly mass of damp fur...

 

\- Zahrassa

 

 

 

Morndas, 1 st of Heartfire, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

S'rendarr's mercy is it cold.

 

All of my furniture was successfully moved into my house yesterday in the late morning, so I spent the day organizing with Lydia while Faendal ran back to Riverwood for a few hours so that he could pick some things up from his house and visit Camilla (one of my mammoth tusks is missing, so I assume he brought it with him to show off). Since it was just Lydia and I for most of the day, we actually got to spend some time bonding with each other while we sorted things and got our gear prepared for today's trip to Dawnstar. As it turns out, she knows how to sew, so she managed to re-size my fur armor so that it fit me better. She cut a lot out of it, fortified it with leather, then took the leftover fur to double it up. Now I'm extra fluffy looking with somewhat properly fitting armor that isn't being held to my body with hide laces and is a lot warmer.

 

I made a lot of hot soups to put into empty bottles while Lydia added fur to all of our armor and bought some proper fur hoods and cloaks. By the time Faendal came back last night, we were all set for the trip, and I finally got myself a pair of pants and a shirt from the general store here in Whiterun. Now I can move a lot easier, since I wear that under my armor instead of a dress (which was tucked into my backpack so that I have something “proper” to wear when we're not galavanting through the wilderness).

 

We left Whiterun in the early morning to go to Dawnstar (which is where Kharjo and the caravan he's a part of should be by today) and passed the Whitewatch Tower again. The guards had taken the skull of the dragon that I killed two days ago and had mounted it on the roof of the tower as a warning to any other dragons that decide that attacking there is a good idea.

 

We knew when were in The Pale almost immediately, because the wind started to hurt my face (why do I live where the air hurts my face?). We also ran into a guard that was dressed in different colors, so that was also a big clue.

 

Though my introduction to The Pale for the first time was a little...creepy.

 

Just a mile or two over the border, there was this crazy-looking man named Cicero screaming about a broken wagon wheel just down the road from a farm. He was wearing a jester's outfit, sobbing about his mother, and just gave me a bunch of bad vibes. We tried to just ignore him, but he started calling out to me and asking if “the nice little girl could talk to the farmer”. I went up the road to find the farmer Cicero was talking about, and the farmer told me he didn't want to help because he didn't know what was really in the coffin. I managed to persuade him into helping by telling him it would get rid of the creep in a nicer, easier way, then told Cicero help would be coming soon. He gave me money and started crying from joy, and I left the whole situation feeling very disturbed.

 

I don't want to know where the money came from. I might throw it out or use it to buy something just to get rid of it.

 

There was snow covering the ground by the time we got to a three-way intersection near Heljarchen. It was cold enough that Lydia considered leading us to Heljarchen to warm up, then double back to go to Dawnstar, but we eventually decided to just build a small fire on the side of the road and then warm up fully at Fort Dunstad, which was on the way to Dawnstar.

 

Since I can't be trusted to cut wood with an axe, Faendal and Lydia went to go tear some branches off of a small grove of trees nearby while I stayed by the road with a lit torch. They came running back almost as soon as they left because there were spriggans guarding the grove. I hate spriggans.

 

They burn quite nicely, though.

 

We ended up not being able to warm up at Fort Dunstad because it was overrun with bandits, the same with Fort Fellhammer just a few miles to the north. There was a giant that had set up camp a few miles north of that, but we couldn't get close enough to warm up without the giant swinging its club in the air in a threatening manner. Luckily Dawnstar was only a few more miles north of the camp, but I still felt like I was frozen solid when we finally came upon Kharjo just outside the makeshift city wall in the early evening. He looked about ready to cry when I presented the amulet to him.

 

Oh, and he's going to be traveling with us now. How exciting!

 

By the time everything was all said and done, the four of us made our way to the inn just inside the wall. The inn happened to be right next door to the Jarl's residence, and he himself was standing outside arguing with two people, one of which was wearing Imperial armor. Being the curious cat that I am, I went over to see what was going on.

 

Apparently, the Jarl was freaking out about the Imperial armor since he is on Ulfric's side of the civil war that has been going on and was warning the two people that he would have them executed as traitors if he caught them sending any messages to Tullius (I flinched pretty badly when I heard his name).

I got the idea in my head to go talk to the Jarl (as is custom for me, it seems) about what he was yelling about, so I asked the guard if I, the Dragonborn, could go inside the longhouse to see him. The guard said go right ahead (and Lydia began to mutter about the terrible security in Skyrim).

 

As usual, Jarl Skald the Elder was skeptical about the fact that I'm the Dragonborn, but unlike Jarl Laila, he said it was because I'm not a Nord, not because of my age. For Jarl Laila, it was the other way around. He was about to have me thrown out when Lydia vouched for me (and I'm still laughing about what she said).

 

“If you don't believe that Zahrassa is the Dragonborn, then ask the dragon that got taken down by the Whitewatch Tower...oh wait, you can't, because it's fucking dead.”

 

He believed us after that and immediately started saying how the Stormcloaks have already won the war because I'm fighting for their side.

 

It hurt me inside to tell him that Ulfric probably won't let me join because I'm too young and am kind of not a Nord (I didn't mention that Ulfric is not exactly my favorite person right now and that I have bigger things to worry about, like the giant flying lizards terrorizing the province). Luckily, before he could say anything to me, his housecarl called him away to look at something.

 

I got an apology for how Jarl Skald was acting towards me from his court wizard, a Breton woman named Madena, who told me that he sees Ulfric as the second coming of Talos and has been sending countless people to go fight for him, leaving Dawnstar largely unguarded. Lately he had been trying to get her to join to, but she was still traumatized from when she fought in the Great War thirty years ago. We talked for a little while longer, since we both understood how the other felt about things that happened to us in the past (her with the Great War, me with...yeah), and then Lydia hauled me off to the inn for the night.

 

There was a priest of Mara at the inn trying to calm a bunch of the residents because everyone in the area has been having strange and frightening nightmares for the past several weeks. Seems like I'll fit right in here, since I haven't had a good, proper sleep without any nightmares for a while now.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm so sorry that it has taken a while for me to get this up. I had to go to the hospital a few days after Christmas because of a genetic disorder rearing its ugly head, and writing took the backseat because the fact that I was full of tubes was a bigger concern.
> 
> I'm back at school and tube free now, so I should have more time to write since this whole writing thing is actually my major.
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me!
> 
> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Tirdas, 2 nd of Heartfire, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

We made it to Windhelm this evening and I got to talk with Ulfric Stormcloak, but the whole situation in the beginning was much less than desirable. I would much rather been stepped on by an angry mammoth than go through that headache again!

 

&%&%&%&

 

“No cats in the city!”

 

“But I need to see the Jarl! It's important!” Zahrassa argued, stomping her foot and steam billowed out of her mouth from the cold air.

 

“Laws are laws,” the guard snapped, crossing his arms and shaking his head.

 

“The guard does not know who he speaking to, yes?” Kharjo said, stepping forward.

 

“Don't make me laugh, cat. Your kind aren't welcome here!”

 

“But I'm the  _ Dragonborn! _ ” Zahrassa whined, crossing her thin arms and scowling. The guard actually started to laugh before glaring at her.

 

“You? A cat, the legendary Dragonborn?”

 

“Yeah, and I can prove it!” She huffed, uncrossing her arms and putting her hands on her hips.

 

“I don't believe you. Cats can't Shout, only Nords.”

 

“Well then watch this,” Zahrassa sneered, turning around and trying to mentally prepare herself for the throat pain that was sure to come. Faendal and Lydia got out of the way so that they wouldn't get hit with the wave of energy.

 

“This is ridic-”

 

_ “FUS!!” _

 

“BY THE DIVINES!” The guard exclaimed, stumbling backwards into the large doors that barred Zahrassa from entry. Zahrassa gripped her throat with one hand and pushed the other onto her chest, hunching over as her screaming lungs made a desperate attempt at freedom. With every heavy breath she drew feeling like tiny knives on the back of her throat, she slowly turned to look up at the guard.

 

“Can...I go in...now...please?” She wheezed, moving the hand on her neck to cover her mouth as she coughed and sent more pain tearing down her lungs. Kharjo reached over and daintily pat her on the back while the guard looked her over for several long, cold, painful minutes.

 

“Alright, fine, but just the Dragonborn!” The guard finally said. “The rest of you lot have to wait out here.”

 

“As her housecarl, I'm afraid I can't agree to that,” Lydia huffed, crossing her arms much like Zahrassa had done just a few moments earlier.

 

“Then no entry,” the guard shrugged.

 

“It'll be...fine...Lydia...just wait...I'll be back...” Zahrassa continued to wheeze, finally standing up straight and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.  _ Gods I hate Shouting. _

 

“...fine. But if anything happens to her, I'm jumping the wall!” Lydia snapped, glaring at the guard.

 

“Your funeral,” the guard shrugged once more, pushing the massive metal door into the city open. “Now go, before I change my mind!”

 

“Thank you...so much,” Zahrassa gasped, slipping past the door and flinching when it banged shut behind her. Much like Helgen last month, she was once again completely on her own. At least here no one would try to cut her head off...she hoped.

 

Once she managed to compose herself and quiet her loud wheezing, she surveyed the darkening street around her. There were two Nord men and a Dunmer woman standing outside of the inn, arguing about something that Zahrassa had a hard time hearing over the wind and banging of the sign hanging over the doors to the inn.

 

“ You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the  Stormcloaks!” The shorter man yelled, shaking one of his fists.

 

“But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight!” The Dunmer woman protested, placing her hands on her hips. Zahrassa inched closer so that she could hear better.

 

“Hey, maybe the reason these gray-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!” The taller Nord in shabby brown clothes said.

 

“Don't be ridiculous!” The Dunmer cried.

 

“Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, little spy. We got ways of finding out what you really are!” The shorter Nord said, much louder than he had been speaking before.

 

“Not while I stand, you won't!” Zahrassa snapped, drawing the attention of the two men onto herself. The Dunmer woman gave her a grateful look and scurried off without another word. The two men began to approach Zahrassa, who fought off the urge to flee. She was the Dragonborn, they couldn't do anything to her! Though it probably wasn't smart to yell at two men who were twice her size without the usual backup being around... _ Damn, this is going to be Maven Black-Briar all over again, isn't it? _

 

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” The shorter man asked, looming over Zahrassa. The beggar man stayed back, regarding Zahrassa carefully.

 

“Just a kid, Rolff,” he finally said, turning and walking away. “Just leave her alone.”

 

“So how did a cat get into the city?” Rolff asked, ignoring the beggar.

 

“The guard let me in because I needed to see the Jarl,” Zahrassa stated, crossing her arms and glaring up at the now-angry Nord.

 

“Oh, you're going to see the Jarl alright, he'll love to see this,” Rolff sneered gleefully, grabbing Zahrassa's arm and starting to drag her along.

 

“Get your hands off of me!” She shrieked, trying to wrench her arm out of his grasp to no avail. There were people walking by as Rolff tugged her along that would stop and stare, but not say or do anything. “Let me go! You have no idea who you're dealing with!”

 

“A stray cat, that's what,” a passing guard muttered. Zahrassa flattened her ears against her head, starting to hiss angrily as she doubled her efforts to dig the back of her toes into the cold stone ground as if it would stop this man from dragging her through town. The wind bit through the fur on her face as she leaned backwards as far as possible, struggling to get away and planning to stab everyone who just stared at the kid being dragged away by a grown man without doing anything.

 

Her attempts at bringing the man to a halt were proving futile, so she finally stopped trying to root herself into the ground and, as a last ditch effort, grabbed his arm with her free hand, leaned forward, and planted a warning bite on his arm. Rolff yelped and immediately let go, sending Zahrassa sprawling onto the ground. The feeling of the hard ground nearly brought her back to Helgen, but before she could process that she had landed on it, Rolff had grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and thrown her over his shoulder.

 

“No biting! We don't bite Nords!” He snapped as she started thrashing and screeching wildly, the memory of being shoved around by the Imperial soldiers starting to come back and overwhelm her senses.

 

_ Why is everyone just sitting there?! Why won't they help me?! To Oblivion with all of you! _ She thought aggressively as she writhed in Rolff's grip, viciously hitting his back, savagely kicking his chest, and attempting to turn her head to an angle that she could properly bite him at. It was hard to see what was going on around her, since she was so consumed in her desperate attempts at freedom.

 

A large metal door opened and she soon found herself surrounded by bright firelight and warmth. She could also hear a bunch of men discussing something, then suddenly stopping mid conversation once Rolff stopped walking.

 

“PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!” Zahrassa thundered, bringing both of her fists down on Rolff's back at the same time, making him jolt.

 

“Rolff, what is this?” A man with a deep, gravely voice asked.

 

“A cat that somehow got into the city and bit me!” Rolff said gleefully, as if Saturalia had come early.

 

“Because you grabbed me and started dragging me around!” Zahrassa snapped, hitting him in the back with both of her fists once more. “Now put me down!”

 

“She was claiming that she needed to talk to Jarl Ulfric,” Rolff continued. Zahrassa slowed her aggressive striking, her arms and legs beginning to tire.

 

“It must be important if she was allowed into the city,” the gravely-voiced man mused.

 

“I'll go fetch him,” another man said, and then a door slammed.

 

“Can someone please get me back on the floor?!” Zahrassa sighed, exasperated and close to tears.

 

“I don't think so, cat,” Rolff said. “You're too violent. We don't want you making any more trouble!”

 

“DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!” Zahrassa screamed, lifting her head and slamming it into Rolff's back. “I AM THE WORST NIGHTMARE OF THOSE GIANT FLYING LIZARDS THAT HAVE BEEN TERRORIZING YOU PEOPLE! YOU  _ NEED _ ME TO BE VIOLENT OR YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!”

 

“Rolff, explain this!”

 

Zahrassa lifted her head and started to squirm once more the moment she heard the newcomer's voice and footsteps as he entered the room.

 

“You remember me? Please say you remember me! And make him put me down!” She gasped, getting her second wind and struggling against the Nord that was still refusing to release her. “Make him put me down!”

 

“Put the child down, Rolff,” Ulfric sighed.

 

“But my Jarl, she-”

 

“I don't care, I said put her down!”

 

Rolff grumbled and released his hold on Zahrassa, who rolled off of his shoulder and plunged to the floor, laying there as still as possible as she looked up at the ceiling for a few minutes before carefully sitting back up to survey the room. Her dark headscarf slipped off of the back of her head, revealing the sloppy braid of flaming red hair.

 

There were four men in the room, two of which Zahrassa did not recognize. The room itself was small, the center being occupied by a table with a map of Skyrim containing numerous little red and blue flags that were pinned down on certain locations. Ulfric was standing on the opposite side from Zahrassa, leaning slightly over the table to see her better.

 

“Good to see you again...I think?” She said, tilting her head.

 

“I see that you managed to make it out of Helgen alive,” Ulfric responded, standing up straight and crossing his arms. Rolff looked as if he had just been hit on the head with something extremely heavy. Zahrassa's ears turned and flattened at the mention of Helgen, her vibrant green eyes unconsciously narrowing the slightest amount.

 

“I don't like talking about it,” she muttered.

 

“Understandable,”

 

“What's going on?” Rolff demanded.

 

“Butt out, will you?” Zahrassa snapped.

 

“Ysrald, please take Miss Little-Wish upstairs. I'll be up to speak with her shortly,” Ulfric ordered one of the unknown men.

 

“Yes sir,” Ysrald responded, slightly startled as he stared at Zahrassa. Zahrassa staggered to her feet, still sore from her rapid trip to the ground thanks to Rolff, and followed the brown-haired Nord through another doorway and up a flight of stairs into a darkened corridor. The guards that were patrolling stopped and stared as they saw the Khajiit trailing behind Ysrald, quietly asking each other how a cat got into the Palace of the Kings, let alone Windhelm. Zahrassa did her best to ignore them as Ysrald opened a blue, metal door into a small sitting room and motioned for her to to enter. Absentmindedly pulling her headscarf back up over her hair, Zahrassa walked through and looked around.

 

“...thanks?” She finally said, looking over her shoulder at Ysrald.

 

“The Jarl will see you shortly,” he said, beginning to shut the door.

 

“Wait!” Zahrassa yelped.

 

“What is it?” Ysrald asked, opening the door again so that he could give Zahrassa a confused look.

 

“I have three friends waiting for me outside of the city that will be worried about me if I don't return soon,” she said, nervously wringing her hands.

 

“I'll tell the Jarl.”

 

With that, the door slammed shut, leaving Zahrassa alone once more.

&%&%&%&

 

I don't know how long I sat there for, but it felt like forever. Luckily, it was a small sitting room with a warm fire and chairs instead of a cold, cramped jail cell, which I was almost certain I was going to be thrown into when Rolff first dragged me into the palace.

 

It was pretty dark in the room, save for a single candle on the table and a small fire in the fireplace. I was tempted to light the unlit candles but decided against it; I figured that I was already in enough trouble and I wanted to avoid potentially causing more. Instead I just took my cloak off and just sat in the dark, waiting and trying not to think too hard about anything. It was very nerve wracking, but I was kind of glad that I got to see a somewhat familiar face from when I was a kid.

 

&%&%&%&%&

 

The door creaked open, making Zahrassa look up from her intense study of her claws. They immediately sheathed themselves back into her fingers when she saw that it was Ulfric standing in the doorway, her throat locking up as she tried to sit up straighter than she had been. Erisla's voice from when Zahrassa had first met Ulfric began to echo in her head as they made brief eye contact.

 

“Sit up straight, smile nicely, be polite, answer any of his questions clearly in your best Tamrielic, and don't be nervous,” Erisla's voice called from the distant memory, but Zahrassa was so nervous she could only manage the “sit up straight” and “be polite”. It would be a miracle if her brain let her open her mouth without feeling like she was going to burst into tears at any moment.

 

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Ulfric finally asked, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Zahrassa shrugged and nervously balled her hands into fists in her lap, the dark green fabric scrunching up with them.  _ I climbed up a dragon's neck just to stab it in the eye two days ago, why am I feeling so scared right now? _

 

The room gradually filled with light as Ulfric lit the other candles around the room, the flames of one of them reflecting in Zahrassa's large, glassy eyes as she focused all of her concentration on it.

 

“Sorja, why are you here?”

 

Zahrassa looked up from the gentle flame to see Ulfric had sat down in the chair directly across from her and was staring intently.

 

“I don't know where to start,” she mumbled after a very long, tense pause, looking down into her lap and studying her fingers, “so much has happened since they left.”

 

Ulfric settled more into his chair and interlaced his fingers, placing them in his lap and looking Zahrassa up and down. Zahrassa tilted her head and stared at a dark spot on the wooden floor near the fireplace, determined to avoid eye contact for as long as possible. Earlier that day she had been excited to get to Windhelm and finally see a familiar face from her youth, but now that she was there, a whole flood of long forgotten emotions started to break out of the bottle she had stowed them away in. She was not normally an overly emotional person, but this recent and almost constant bombardment was leaving her weary and feeling battered. Now it was almost easier to punch a bandit in the throat than to actually talk about her feelings. Her normal tactic of always staying positive and burying the negativity was starting to become ineffective now that her life as she knew it was beginning to unravel before her very eyes.

 

“My real name isn't Sorja,” she finally said, still refusing to look up. “My birth name was Zahrassa. I go by that now. And...well, remember that really loud Shout back on the twenty-first? The one that made the entire province shake?”

 

“Yes, I remember it quite well,” Ulfric responded, “but what does it have to do with your origins and why you've showed up unannounced?”

 

“I'm the Dragonborn, sir,” Zahrassa answered quietly. Ulfric adopted a similar stunned expression that so many had given her before upon hearing these words and Zahrassa finally chanced a look up before returning her focus onto the dark spot on the floor. Silence fell over the two as the fire crackled and sent sparks sailing into the air, one nearly landing on Zahrassa's tail.

 

“I always thought that the Dragonborn of legend would be...taller,” Ulfric finally said in response, leaning forward in his chair so that he could get a better look at Zahrassa. Zahrassa kept her eyes on the dark spot as a small ember floated out of the fire and landed in its center.

 

“So did I,”

 

Silence once more.

 

“Why here?”

 

“Because you're the only familiar face from when I was younger that isn't dead, missing, or smack in the middle of Imperial territory being played with like a puppet,” she stated, finally lifting her head a fraction of an inch.  _ No thanks to you, I probably wouldn't be in this mess if you had kept your damn mouth shut...literally. _

 

“We've only met twice, Sorja, and years apart. That hardly counts as knowing each other.”

 

“Well, I don't exactly have any other options right now. I'm not exactly strong enough to climb up the tallest mountain in Tamriel to talk to a bunch of monks that could kill me with one word,” Zahrassa snapped, “I'm scared half to death because everything and everyone is trying to kill me and I don't know what else to do! I'm a fifteen-year-old kid, for Kynareth's sake!”

 

With that, she buried her face in her hands and began to sniffle quietly into them. Before Ulfric could react, there was a knock at the door. Zahrassa looked up to see the door creak open and a short servant woman with dark blonde hair appeared in the frame.

 

“Sir, there is an irate woman demanding to see someone named Zahrassa and she won't leave,” the servant said.

 

“I assume that this would be one of your friends that Ysrald mentioned to me?” Ulfric asked Zahrassa, looking from the servant woman to Zahrassa. Zahrassa stiffly nodded her head before wiping her teary eyes with the back of her hand. “Tell her that I will speak to her shortly.”

 

“Aye,” the servant said, closing the door and scurrying down the hallway, leaving Ulfric and Zahrassa in yet another uncomfortable silence broken only by the crackling of the fire.

 

“Where have you been all these years?”

 

“I never left the province,” Zahrassa answered, not looking away from the small flames. “They gave me to a trade caravan four years ago and just...left. It was fine, but then we got separated, and now here I am.”

 

More silence.

 

“I heard about what happened with Torygg,” Zahrassa rambled, “and the whole Shouting thing, and I figured that Windhelm seemed like a safer place to go instead of the top of a huge mountain when I found out what I was. That's why I'm here.”

 

“You think that I can train you instead of the Greybeards?”

 

“...yes,” Zahrassa said softly, finally looking up from the fire.

 

“I'm sorry, Sorja, but-”

 

“You can't,” she sighed, hugging her knees to her chest and resting her forehead on them as a crushing wave of hopelessness began violently smashing her over the head.

 

“Is there anything else you need that I could help with?” Ulfric asked sympathetically, unsure if he should try to comfort the sniffling girl in front of him or not; dealing with emotional people, especially young girls, was not one of his strong suits.

 

“Why can't I talk about what happened at...with the dragon...I can't...?” she choked, unable to bring herself to even say 'Helgen'. “There are times I even can't remember it, but I dream about it all the time.”

 

“It was a terrifying situation for someone as young as you to be in,” Ulfric said after a moment of thought, “but you'll eventually get over it. We all do.”

 

That made Zahrassa feel somewhat better, but she still felt as if there was a mammoth standing on her chest. She briefly remembered her conversation with Madena in Dawnstar and how Madena had said she couldn't even listen to talk of the Civil War without flashing back to the Great War;  _ she _ certainly didn't seem like she 'got over it', even though the Great War was thirty years ago.  _ If it takes more than thirty years to recover, is it even worth it? _

 

“Your father was the exact same way,”

 

Zahrassa lifted her head and finally looked Ulfric in the eye. “H-he was?”

 

“Yes, he was. He refused to speak of the war for many years, and I am going to assume that he never told you anything about his time with the Legion.”

 

“He never said much about it,” Zahrassa remembered, flashing back to moments in her childhood when she would come across an old piece of Roghild's armor stashed away in the cellar and Sigirek would nervously tell her to put it away. Roghild would tell Zahrassa stories of shenanigans with his fellow soldiers, but any questions about the war itself were deflected with “I don't remember” or “I'll tell you when you're older”.

 

Now Zahrassa missed Roghild more than ever, and she put her forehead back on her knees. He had always helped her when she missed her mother or needed advice, and she needed that more than ever.

 

“It gets easier,” Ulfric said when Zahrassa didn't say anything else for a while. Tears forming in the corners of her eyes, she lifted her head once more to speak.

 

“Promise?”

 

It was yet another request that Ulfric couldn't fulfil.

 

&%&%&%&

 

I actually felt a lot better after I sat there and cried for an hour straight (no thanks to Ulfric, who just kind of sat there like an idiot the whole time I was sniffling away), but I'm still reeling. I just want my parents, or the Little-Wish's, or  _ someone _ that can hold me and tell me everything will be alright. Lydia and Faendal are more of the “awkward pat on the head until they stop crying” kind of people and Kharjo is too realistic.

 

Maybe I am, too.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

Middas, 3 rd of Heartfire, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

I got into another fistfight with a man twice my size today, but this time it was in self-defense. Why do men twice my size keep insisting on fighting me?

 

We stayed the night at the Palace of the Kings and this morning Ulfric gave me a note that says that I'm allowed to be in the city, which I just need to show to the guards every time I visit (lets hope that it will work). I was still kind of numb from last night's outpouring of emotion and still needed some time to think before going to High Hrothgar, so we scattered through the city in the morning in search of something to do. Kharjo heard something about a bakery and took off in search of it with Faendal in tow (Lydia wants us to be using a “buddy system” while we're in Windhelm because of last night's incident) and I heard something about some kind of museum in the city and dragged Lydia there with me.

 

It was closed for the day, sadly, because it's Tales and Tallows, so very few things were actually open except for that bakery Kharjo went to, the inn, the apothacary, and a few market stalls. I was crushed to find out that the book store was closed, as well. Lydia and I just kind of stood around in the market, when none other than stupid Rolff Stone-Fist showed up and started heckling us. I'm starting to get REALLY sick and tired of Nords...so I beat him up right there in the middle of the market.

 

Well, it was actually more of me defending myself because he took a swing at me and I had to incapacitate him before Lydia tore his heart out through his kneecaps...

 

&%&%&%&

 

“Hey! What are you still doing here?!”

 

“For the love of Khenthari...” Zahrassa muttered, turning around to see an angry Rolff Stone-Fist standing by the wood chopping block. Sighing heavily and knitting her brows together, she folded her arms across her chest. “What do _you_ want?”

 

“To know why you're still here!”

 

“Well, I want to know why you're so persistent in harassing a fifteen-year-old, but it looks like I'll never know, either.” Zahrassa said sarcastically.

 

“Zahrassa, stop,” Lydia demanded, trying to grab Zahrassa's upper arm. Zahrassa shrugged her off, narrowing her eyes at Rolff.

 

“I don't like your attitude.” She finally said.

 

“ Don't like it? Too bad. This is our city. Ours!” Rolff snapped, stepping closer to Zahrassa and towering over her.

 

“I didn't see a sign.”

 

“Zahrassa...” Lydia began once more.

 

“Don't think I can take you? One hundred Septims says I can punch you back where you came from!”

 

“That would be quite a feat, considering that I came from Solitude,” Zahrassa sneered, suddenly needing to dodge a fist that came flying at her head. Before Lydia could react, Zahrassa kneed Rolff between the legs in order to stun him. In a series of quick motions, she grasped Rolff's wrist with one hand, slightly digging her claws in before grabbing his upper arm with her other hand. Relying more on her speed than her strength, she turned on the spot, wrapped Rolff's arm around her neck, and pitched herself towards the ground.

 

“WHAT IN-?!” Rolff cried as Zahrassa tucked her head between her knees and rolled forward, flipping Rolff over her head and taking them both onto the ground. With that, she shoved Rolff's arm off of her throat and sprang back to her feet, turning to glare down at the stunned Nord while keeping her small fists aloft in case he kept swinging. She heard Lydia's sword clatter to the ground as the market went completely silent, Rolff staring up at Zahrassa as is she had just grown an extra head.

 

“...damn,” a passing Dunmer man said as Zahrassa rolled her head to ease the sudden pain in her neck that had been brought on by flipping a man over her head. Rolff remained on the ground as activity in the market resumed, this time accompanied by the citizens chattering about what they had just witnessed.

 

“I think you owe me a hundred Septims,” Zahrassa finally said, relaxing from her fighting stance and offering a hand to Rolff. He scowled and shoved it away, lugging himself off of the ground and unwillingly handing Zahrassa the money before stomping away, grumbling. Zahrassa counted the money out in her hands before dropping it into her satchel, a wicked grin momentarily crossing her face.

 

“Where in _Oblivion_ did you learn how to do that?!” Lydia explained once she picked her sword and jaw up from the ground.

 

“Sigirek taught me,” Zahrassa shrugged. “Erisla was worried about me not being able to fend off the Thalmor if they came for me since I'm so small, so Sigirek taught me things that relied more on speed than strength.”

 

“I'm impressed,” Lydia said, her voice carrying a slight hint of pride a mother would have for her children. Zahrassa couldn't help crack a smile.

 

“I've killed two dragons by climbing on them and you're impressed by me flipping a grown man?” She laughed.

 

“Being small while fighting a giant creature is an advantage, but being small while fighting a human can lead to some problems,” Lydia pointed out, ruffling Zahrassa's hair.

 

“Well, it's an advantage when I'm fighting men because their-”

 

“Someone please explain why I'm hearing about a child in the market flipping a grown man?” Faendal said as he appeared next to Lydia, Kharjo standing behind them with an armful of sweets.

 

“The guy who grabbed me last night came for round two so I hit him,” Zahrassa explained, raising an eyebrow at one of the cakes Kharjo was holding.

 

“Mine!” Kharjo snapped when he noticed Zahrassa's wandering eye, turning slightly away from her.

 

“Sharing is caring!” Zahrassa parotted from days long ago, putting her hands on her hips and glaring.

 

“I bought them, they are mine!”

 

“Hand 'em over, furball!”

 

“Oh, for the love of Mara...” Faendal sighed.

 

&%&%&%&%&

 

I never did get one of Kharjo's sweetrolls, but I did get yelled at by Lydia for causing a ruckus. It seems that she has taken it upon herself to be my mother despite not being much older than me. I think she's between twenty and twenty-three...hold on, let me ask.

 

Yeah, it's twenty-two. So yeah, not much older than me. Though she says that doesn't matter because Nords are emotionally mature before Khajiit. Khajiit aren't done growing until we're twenty, while Nords are considered adults when they turn sixteen. That's scary, because I'm turning sixteen during Rain's Hand next year and can barely function when there isn't a responsible adult around. And let me tell you, I can count the number of responsible adults currently in my life on one hand. Lydia is pretty much the only one.

 

Anyway, after the small scuffle over sweet rolls, Lydia dragged us to the apothacary to pick up some more potions since we were running low. In doing so, I got suckered into another “delivery” job, where I need to go crawl into another crypt full of draugr to find this thing called “the white phial” for the shopkeeper Nurelion.

 

Eh, why not? Draugr aren't too difficult as long as you can confuse them enough that they stop fighting or lead them into a trap. Or ambush them while they're “playing dead”, that's always fun.

 

So we went off to get this phial at this place called the “Forsaken Cave” (Lydia wasn't pleased about being “sidetracked” again, but I'm the Dragonborn and I can do what I want) and made short work of the draugr that got in our way. I avoided getting into melee range as much as possible to avoid getting any of their blood on me, yick!

 

There were also a bunch of those swinging blade traps that were in Bleak Falls Barrow, but they were, mercifully, much smaller and easier to crawl under. Whoever built that crypt wasn't very smart.

 

I got my hands on the phial once we got rid of an unusually powerful draugr that I had snuck around. Faendal and I kept it confused by alternating who shot it with arrows, and then Lydia and Kharjo came at it from its sides. It was really quite elegant.

 

The phial, not so much. It had a bunch of huge cracks in it. Nurelion won't be happy with that one, I hope he doesn't think I broke it. I know better than to smash valuable objects! I may have been born in a secret skooma den under a barn, but I certainly don't act like it, that you very much!

 

There was also another one of those glowing walls like the one Faendal and I found in Bleak Falls Barrow. This one said “ _Krii_ ”, which makes me wonder which Shout type thing it is. I'll probably have to eat another dragon soul to figure it out, but I really don't want to encounter any more dragons until I actually know what I'm doing.

 

It was too late and too cold to get back to Windhelm when we finally crawled out of there, so we went and stayed at the inn in Heljarchen for the night. It's a sketchy little place, but hey, at least it's better than a tent in the middle of nowhere!

 

Though the way Lydia is acting, I'd probably prefer a tent I the middle of nowhere. At least then she'd let me sleep.

 

Or at least try to.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Turdas, 4 th of Heartfire, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

Absolutly nothing of interest happened today. We got up super early, left Heljarchen, braved a blizzard, and made it back to Windhelm in just four hours.

 

Though there was that Dark Brotherhood assasin just past Agna's Mill that was out for my tail. Lydia killed her before I knew there was someone there, so I'm not really worried about it. I'd much rather the Dark Brotherhood than the Thalmor, at least the Dark Brotherhood is up front about trying to kill you. The Thalmor just throw you in prison and torture you to death.

 

Lydia got herself all worked up about it, though. She got really mad when Kharjo suggested that she get a stiff drink. The next few days are going to be extra special, aren't they?

 

Anyway, Like I said. Nothing much happened. I gave the phial to Nurelion, visited the Temple of Talos, and spent the rest of the day at the inn since the cold was getting dangerous.

 

We're leaving for Ivarstead, the small town at the base of the mountain High Hrothgar is on, tomorrow. I'm glad to be going somewhere that's reasonably warm, since Windhelm is almost completely encased in ice. I fell down three times trying to get to the apothacary alone!

 

\- Zahrassa

 

 

 

Loredas, 6 th of Heartfire, 4E 201

Dear Diary:

We made it Riften yesterday, but then a nasty thunderstorm struck and we couldn't continue on to Ivarstead. We made it here in relatively one piece, but there were still plenty of distractions along the way, including an Orc Stronghold under seige by giants and way too many bears. I got suckered into helping the Stronghold since their chief forbade them from going past the walls and the wise woman needed some alchemical ingredients to make an offering to Malacath. I need to find some troll fat and a Daedra heart so that they can ask Malacath to stop sending giants after them.

 

I also learned that when a giant slams their club onto the ground, you jump like your life depends on it, otherwise you'll get tossed into the air by the shockwave. Trust me on this one. I'm still smarting.

 

Anyway, once we battled our way through the many bears (seriously, how many bears are there in this gods-forsaken Hold?), we made it to town, and let me tell you, it isn't much. There's a mill, an inn, a general store, a few houses, and that's about it. While we were questioning the locals I overheard a teenager telling her father that she wanted to move away and he got extremely angry at her for wanting to “abandon the town”. “What town?” is all I have to offer on that subject.

 

One of the locals, Klimmek, said that we should probably wait until tomorrow morning to head up the mountain, because after dark it gets cold enough to kill a grown man. So we're going up early tomorrow morning so that we can get back down the mountain before Oblivion freezes over just in case the Greybeards don't let us stay overnight.

 

We still had plenty of time to kill before it was remotely close to a normal hour to go to sleep, so the innkeeper asked me if I could investigate a nearby barrow that was supposedly haunted. Why not?

 

Turns out it wasn't haunted at all. It was some crazy adventurer pretending to be a ghost to keep people away from the barrow so that they wouldn't bother him on his treasure hunt. Though he did go insane thinking that he actually was the guardian of the barrow while trying to find the key to another one of those dragon claw doors.

 

Which the innkeeper had the entire time.

 

This claw looked a lot like the one Faendal and I got in Bleak Falls Barrow, only this one was made out of sapphires. There wasn't any time to try it out today, so I'll save it for another day. It really got me thinking, though; how many other claws like these are out there?

 

Faendal then got the brilliant idea to try and collect them all so that he can give them to Camilla. What a dork...though that does sound like fun.

 

Oh well, that will have to be a task for another day. Tomorrow we go to High Hrothgar, and who knows what I'll have to do there. I hope that I can still wander around Skyrim and don't have to stay there. I've really grown to like wandering across the province, even if everything and their mother is trying to kill me.

 

\- Zahrassa

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of the end of NaNoWriMo, I have posted my story here on Ao3. It can also be found on my fanfiction.net account and on my deviantART account.
> 
> * * *
> 
>  _The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim_ © Bethesda Softworks, LLC  
>  _The Diary of Zahrassa Barahir_ © Gracie Erickson


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